


The Darkness Rises

by merryernest



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dark, Drama & Romance, Everything Hurts, F/M, Gen, In Character, Rating May Change, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-03-03 17:00:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 32,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13345566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merryernest/pseuds/merryernest
Summary: "The rain had slowed to a drizzle, but the mud was still up to their ankles, making footing treacherous. Lit only by the roaring flames, they circled each other. Both were half-starved, driven by anger, resentment and disappointment. The catharsis Kylo thought he would achieve was wholly absent. He had succeeded only in pushing the girl to her breaking point, and whatever dark passenger she carried now wanted vengeance. Let her have it, he thought. He’d rather have a quick death by lightsaber than a slow one by wasting away on this cursed planet, and so he lowered his blade. Rey approached, one side of her bathed in the glow of the fire, the other lost in shadows."





	1. The Duel

**Author's Note:**

> This story is also published under my Fanfiction account, MarieEri. I'm fairly disillusioned with that site in general, so I hope to find community here. I began this story in 2015 and had a good portion of it plotted out. I intend to follow my original notes even as my version weaves in and out of the events that happen in The Last Jedi. 
> 
> This story begins at the end of The Force Awakens, as Rey and Kylo Ren are dueling...

**Outside the StarKiller base**

The frigid wind bit at Rey's face as she stared down at her fallen adversary. Luke Skywalker's lightsaber still hummed in her hand, casting a blue glow on the snow and on Kylo Ren's pained, bleeding face. Kylo's own fractured weapon lay useless and broken in the snowbank behind her. He was at her mercy. His blood stained the ground, the maroon stain growing by the moment, and even now, he looked up at her as a wounded animal might, with resignation and anger at its defeat.

  
Reflexively, Rey gave the lightsaber another threatening twirl. She could end him. He deserved no less. Her memories of her past were dim, and her interpretation of them even murkier, but this man did not deserve to live. He murdered Han Solo. He slaughtered at will on every planet he touched, and for what? A mission to find a man who might very well be myth, and who was certainly no threat to the First Order. It was a foolish, fruitless endeavor, the sign of an obsessed and addled mind incapable of seeing the present. And for this, she pitied him.

  
Whether Kylo Ren, his wounded arm pressed desperately against an even more wounded side, noticed the change in her demeanor, she would never know. While she spent only seconds in her jaded perusal of him, his gloved hand clenched with whatever dark force he could muster. His enemy was not attuned to it; she was too new, too baffled by her abilities to see his workings on the periphery. The ground rippled under her feet, but this was due to the planet's last shuttering breath before its inevitable demise. Rey adjusted her stance, the lightsaber blade still poised dangerously above him. He knew then that she might really kill him.

  
Kylo extended his arm, unleashing the force with a hoarse cry. Caught off guard, Rey flew back into a tree and collapsed. Too weak to enjoy his brief victory, Kylo leaned back into the icy snow, his vision blacking out. He released the pressure on his side wound, letting it bleed freely. His death was inevitable now, but at least it was not by a novice's hand.

  
He was unconscious by the time the First Order ship arrived. Stormtroopers ran down the platform and grabbed him roughly, dragging him without ceremony into the ship. Moments later, their intimidating, chrome-plated superior descended, taking one last glance at the battleground. Her readings were correct. Not five meters from where Kylo Ren had fallen, the First Order prisoner—the Jakku scavenger—lay helpless in the snow. Captain Phasma pointed at the supine Rey and ordered her retrieval as well. The ground heaved aggressively under the stormtroopers' boots, but just as the trees and snow sank and disappeared into a dark abyss, the young woman was dropped on the platform and the ship sped off into the night. The planet and First Order StarKiller weapon heaved and collapsed into itself, like a dying star, before exploding.

  
Captain Phasma observed Kylo Ren and the girl in her cold, perfunctory manner, ignoring the shaking under her feet from the explosion. Kylo Ren's injuries were serious, but treatable. While tempted to let the mercurial warrior die, she knew the Supreme Leader favored the him, and thus, she had to uphold the Supreme Leader's will.

  
“Take Kylo Ren to the infirmary,” she ordered, and she was quickly obeyed. Next, she knelt and looked at the unconscious Rey, still gripping the lightsaber. The back of the girl's head was bloody, but the captain disregarded this injury as minor. More concerning, however, was the limp, wrenched position of the girl's lithe frame.

  
“This one's back is broken,” the captain noted, her frown evident in her voice, “have her treated but not at the expense of Kylo Ren.” She pried the lightsaber out of Rey's clenched hand.

  
Standing to her impressive height, she waved over the two remaining stormtroopers. They dragged the prisoner to the infirmary with little regard to her condition, and just for a moment, the First Order captain was thankful the girl was blissfully unaware. She took the lightsaber and walked down the hall to the bridge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you made it through this chapter, thanks. :) I have quite the adventure in store. For those who think this has the makings of a sick fic--it's not. There is adventure, fury, and a whole lot of burning ahead. I really do strive to bring as much realism as possible from the movies into this. I try to maintain the idea that if TFA ended differently, this story could be the next film (a girl can dream). xx


	2. Alive

When Kylo Ren woke, he was in his austere quarters on his flagship, safe from the destruction of the StarKiller base. He frowned with distaste. He had welcomed death, and was ready for the blissful respite it offered. With a deep breath, he pulled himself up on his cot and took in his surroundings. His typical black attire was repaired and neatly folded on a small table opposite him, along with a tray of meager rations and, most importantly, his mask. He maneuvered his legs over the side and met the floor with a grimace. The cold steel grate pattern was jarring on his bare feet. He was weak from not using his muscles for days, and it took longer than he wanted to acclimate himself with standing again. Gingerly, he moved toward the waiting rations and began to eat.

Based on his cursory inspection, the medical droids did their work well. The flesh on his left side was neatly repaired and no more than a pink scar the length of his hand. His arm and leg bore similar scars, though these were far more tender. The lightsaber, unlike the blaster, was a cruel weapon when it inflicted injuries. The blaster bolt was less precise, often inflicting a wider damage circumference, but the lightsaber cut deep and true.

Even as he chewed the tasteless rations, Kylo resisted the temptation to touch his last, and most obvious battle wound. Forehead to chin, and just narrowly missing his right eye, the girl had given him a shameful, permanent reminder of his weakness, and he hated her for it. Not that he was a vain man; he had always known that he did not possess his mother's noble features or his father's rugged looks. He had endured more than a few jabs from the other trainees about it, but he had always made them pay for their comments. Now he had one more gruesome reason to wear the mask.

None of the small quarters on the flagship had mirrors, and his was no different, despite his status. Grim, efficient and practical, the unspoken mantra of the First Order. Slowly, minding his healing injuries, Kylo dressed himself in his layered garments. He winced as he wrapped his middle. His torso was going to weak; he would have to train to regain his former strength.

Kylo found his thoughts drifting back to the force sensitive girl as he strapped on his gauntlets, followed by his black gloves. The girl's flickering presence in the force had disappeared immediately after hitting the tree. He supposed he had made her pay too, and was surprised by the pang of regret it made him feel. She was untrained, and yet the most worthy adversary he'd faced in ages. He could all but taste the unchecked rage as she had taken up the lightsaber of her fallen friend, the traitorous stormtrooper FN-2187. She attacked with a pure fury, making every attempt to destroy him to avenge the stormtrooper, and perhaps, Han Solo himself. Had Kylo not been able to throw her back while she gloated, she may have very well succeeded.

Kylo settled himself on the floor and closed his eyes. He hated meditation, had always hated it. It was so difficult to quiet his thoughts, to channel his feelings into stillness. But he would face the Supreme Leader soon, and he needed to be ready.

_“Find the calm, Ben,” whispered the voice he hated so much. His old teacher. “Listen,” Skywalker had urged. Ben, much too volatile for such an unseasoned instructor, had tried so hard to listen. There were so many whispers. He constantly felt the pull of something much darker, always on the cusp of his grasp. Had Anakin known this torment as well?_

_His teacher's knowledge of Anakin's fall was fragmented at best. After all, Luke Skywalker had only learned of his true parentage shortly before the demise of Darth Vader. He neither wondered nor cared what turned the powerful Jedi into a Sith so many years earlier. Weakness, the easy path—those were always the routine answers Ben was given._

Kylo's eyelids snapped open. The ship shuttered, once, twice, and he knew they were being pulled into the hold of the much larger Resurgent-class Star Destroyer _Finalizer_. His flagship was not equipped to deal with long term space travel, and needed fresh supplies and new troops.

Meditation would have to wait.

**{}{}{}{}{}**

 

Like a dark prince stalking his castle after battle, Kylo Ren stalked the hallway of the Star Destroyer with disdain for everyone. Stormtroopers and officers alike shifted their path to accommodate his angry approach, lest they become victim to his infamous temper.

He moved without thinking, navigating the maze to the communications hall by memory. The door opened for him. Under the mask, he all but snarled. There was General Hux kneeling before the Supreme Leader Snoke, the two obviously in discourse for some time before his arrival.

Kylo approached and knelt. “Master,” he spoke, keeping his voice even.

“The General tells me you were injured.”

“Yes.”

“What of the force-sensitive girl?”

There was a long pause. Kylo ached to rip the smug expression off the General's face, but instead, he kept his gaze trained penitently on the ground.

“She escaped and was killed.”

Kylo forced his breathing to be even. Even though the hologram, he could feel Snoke's disgust.

“You are weak. To be brought down by a few rebels, the map lost and the weapon destroyed,” Snoke admonished.

Hux stepped onto the platform next to him. “Supreme Leader, we actually have the force-sensitive girl in custody.”

Kylo's head snapped up. _What?! She survived? How did he not know?_

If possible, the twisted, haggard face of Snoke softened. “Good. Bring her to me.”

“Of course, Supreme Leader,” General Hux answered, bowing. The hologram ended, and the next instant, Kylo was on his feet and looking down at the general.

“How convenient for you to keep this from me,” Kylo hissed.

“You were recovering,” General Hux retorted, his eyes narrowing, “and quite frankly, no one thought she would survive.”

Kylo exited the room, his back robes flailing behind him as he made his way to the infirmary. He did not know what to expect when he arrived, but certainly not this. Very much alive, Rey was deathly pale under the white sheet, a monitor beeping softly behind her. While most people looked serene when asleep, she looked haunted. He could see her eyelids twitch. What was she dreaming of? He resisted the temptation to enter her mind.

“She is in an induced coma,” the medical droid informed him. Kylo watched Rey's shallow breathing. No wonder he couldn't feel her presence in the force. There was only the barest pulse when he felt for it.

“Why is she not the bacta tank?” he asked.

“It's useless against her injuries. Her back is broken.”

His fist clenched. It was his fault, of course, when he had thrown her into the tree. She was valuable if she could be manipulated, but she was no good to him as a cripple.

“Wake her,” Kylo commanded.

“It's not recommended.”

He glared daggers at the droid, and several instruments on the nearby metal surgical tray began to tremor.

“Yes, sir.” The droid punched a few keys in the monitoring system. “It will take several hours, sir, for the drugs to wear off.”

Kylo held back his frustration. “Contact me when she's awake,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to hear your thoughts!


	3. The Meeting

_Fire!_

_The smoke curled around her, stifling and thick. No matter where she ran, she couldn't escape it. Cries of agony and suffering all around her, hands pulling her away and bundling her up in a blanket. Of being carried, then deposited somewhere cold and dark. Muffled voices, all scared. Her stomach gnawed with hunger. Where was her mother? No one would answer her. The cargo hold was so dark, she couldn't see their faces..._

_...And then it was so bright, so fast, it was painful. She had never been in a place so dry and hot. Words were exchanged with Unkar Plutt, the lumbering junk dealer, and then the ship left. She half expected the old freighter to circle around and come back, but up and up it climbed and then disappeared, leaving her behind._

Rey gasped and opened her eyes. Nothing would come into focus, but it was bright. Painfully bright.

She hated that dream. It spoke of memories that haunted her and questions of which she always denied the answer. But unlike the dream, this air now wasn't saturated with smoke. Instead, it was thin, with a tint of ozone. Somewhere in the depths of her subconscious, she recalled it tasted the way filtered air is on board a ship. Rey's heart beat thudded against her chest. She had a bad feeling about this...

The face of a cold medical droid entered her vision, still fuzzy on the edges. “Greetings,” came its programmed speech. “You have suffered grievous injuries and are under the care of the First Order.”

_No! She had escaped..._

Rey bit back a moan as she shifted against the pillow. Slowly, events began to filter back to her. She _had_ escaped the clutches of Kylo Ren, only to pick up the lightsaber and fight back. She must have been wounded, though she had no recollection of it. Her mind felt frayed, as though something had caused it to unwind from the end.

“How are you feeling?” the monotone voiced droid asked. Absent of any sympathy, it watched her movements. Truth be told, Rey felt as though she'd just been run over by a landcruiser. While her vision finally normalized, her eyes hurt from the brightness of the harsh, artificial lights and her arms felt like jelly. She tried to swallow.

“Terrible,” she answered.

“That is regrettable.” There was a pause as the droid moved on to the terse programmed phrase, “I am not authorized to give you further painkillers.”

_Of course not_ , Rey thought, raising her head. She tugged weakly at the metal cuffs that locked her wrists to the bed frame, anger rising in her chest.

“Why am I captive?”

Lifeless diode panels providing a semblance of eyes looked back at her. “I am not authorized to discuss such matters.”

Rey glared at the droid with unnerving concentration. “You will release me immediately,” she ordered, trying to summon a whisper of the force to come to her aid.

The droid looked befuddled, if that was possible, as it searched for potential responses in its databanks. Rey repeated her request, blackness skirting her vision again with the effort. The droid settled on repeating, “you have suffered grievous injuries and are under the care of the First Order.”

Whatever power Rey had summoned to trick the stormtrooper into releasing her the first time was not going to work on a droid, much to her frustration. She bit her lip. Kylo Ren was still unsuccessful in getting his map to Luke Skywalker. Either way, her life was worthless to them once he had what he wanted.

She began again.

“What are my injuries?” she asked, drawing as much civility as possible.

“Concussion,” the droid answered coldly, “hypothermia. Spinal cord rupture between lumbar four and five vertebrae. Lower extremities non-functional until further repair.”

Even as she heard it, Rey realized that somehow, she already knew. Horrified, she looked at her legs, hidden under the white sheet, and willed them to move.

_Nothing._

Not even the slightest twinge.

Rey leaned back. Like all those in the midst of youth, she had not dreamed her body would betray her. She had survived much with nary a scratch. Her whole existence on Jakku was a calculated risk. Everyday she courted starvation, beatings, falls, or some other gruesome calamity that could result in her untimely demise. She was a survivor. Invincibility, however impractical, was the unspoken expectation. If it hadn't been, she would have never been so foolhardy as to combat the villain responsible for her fallen friends. Perhaps she felt the righteousness of her convictions would protect her from potential harm. _Perhaps this “force” was nothing more than a party trick_ , she thought angrily.

The young woman quickly assessed her dismal situation. She once again was prisoner of the First Order, and this time, paralyzed. Escape was unlikely, whereas torture and death were inevitable.

To make matters worse, just then, the door hissed opened, revealing the dark form of Kylo Ren.

She swore.

{}{}{}{}{}

 

“How unbecoming,” Kylo chided, standing a meter away from the infirmary bed. He cut an imposing figure. Tall and swathed in black, somber robes, he movements were fluid. Rey didn't note any limp as he paced, and gathered that whatever his injuries, he appeared in far better shape than her after their lightsaber duel.

“What would you know?” she spat, her tone vitriol.

Even beneath his mask, she could sense his quirked lips. “More than a desert rat who picks up a lightsaber she knows nothing about.”

She closed her eyes a moment, trying to summon the memory. It came back to her in flashes. With a sharp intake of breath, Rey looked at him, her eyes wide.

“I disarmed you.”

It was a taunt as much as it was the truth. She saw his gloved hands fist, and knew she hit a nerve. “Your lightsaber,” she asked, seeking to twist the dagger, “it's destroyed, isn't it?”

Kylo glared at her. The hapless medical droid smashed into the opposite wall, falling to the ground in a sparking heap.

“Your master will be most displeased with you,” Rey concluded, ignoring the feat of indignation around her.

Quite suddenly, a deadly stillness returned to the room. Kylo steadied his thundering heartbeat. The girl was right. The Supreme Leader _would_ make him pay for his weakness, but not yet. Kylo could not have her mock him with impunity. He cocked his head at her, his hands held behind his back.

“I am told your back is broken,” he said, his mechanized voice eerily calm, almost diplomatic.

She looked away for a moment. “So it would seem,” she said quietly, staring at the ceiling. Suddenly, Rey felt a squeeze on her middle, uncomfortable at first, and then tighter.

“What...what are you doing?” she gasped, her arms tugging uselessly against the cuffs. _Even now, she_ _fights_ , Kylo noted. Her body broken, but never her spirit. She _was_ worthy.

“I feel it,” he said, concentrating, “the break in the tissues.” He pressed harder through the force, and was rewarded with her agonized scream as her body arched dangerously against the restraints.

A moment later, he released the pressure, and she collapsed back on the bed. It grated on him that even now, the girl was too noble to cry. She blinked and turned her head away from him. No, he would not tolerate avoidance.

Kylo approached her bedside and placed a gloved hand on either side of her head. He leaned over, his cold mask inadvertently brushing against her ear. She shivered at the contact.

“Your death is no longer up to me,” he told her, his voice low and menacing. His gloved hands moved from the sheets to pressing down hard on her bare shoulders while he visualized the task ahead.

Hearing the prisoner's tortured screams through the infirmary's thick doors, the stormtroopers outside moved away as fast as they could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vignettes are my friend. I don't tend to write the behemoth chapters that I've seen other authors do, but what I do post is packed with intention and meaning. Also it's more practical--I can update faster. :)  
> Thanks so much for the kudus and the comments--it is an awesome motivator! xo


	4. The Awakening

Hands held behind his back, the young First Order General stood on the bridge, looking out at the vastness of his domain. Finally, the time had come. He had proven himself superior to the fool Kylo Ren, even though he possessed no command over the supposed mystical, invisible force. No, Hux commanded millions of tangible souls, all ready to die at his command for whatever cause he named. The Supreme Leader recognized his potential. These so called Knights of Ren were just flagrant relics of a bygone age. _His was the true power._

“General Hux, we are entering the _Atheanian_ system now,” a nameless, faceless bridge officer reported from her console.

“Good,” he responded. Moments later, the _Finalizer_ dropped out of hyperspace, causing a slight shudder underneath his boots. Unacceptable. Hux frowned and approached the pilot's console. A lock of errant red hair fell onto his forehead, giving him a youthful appearance he despised so much. _Kylo had his silly intimidating mask, but as for himself, he only had his own image and fury to project fear in the hearts of others_. He swept the lock back into its severe, slicked position.

The pilot refused to meet the General's loathing gaze. Sweat beaded along the man's forehead. Hux had heard stories from his father how the Sith Lord Vader had strangled men for lesser offenses. At moments like these, Hux allowed himself to envy that ability, but no matter; he would make sure the pilot was dealt with appropriately. A dark glance to the bridge commander and the man's fate was sealed. Hux left the bridge before the pilot's cries for mercy could reach his ears. He had other things that demanded his attention.

The First Order General had ordered the force-sensitive prisoner moved to the brig. She was still unconscious from Kylo Ren's meddling, and Hux sneered when he realized that the wan, emaciated creature before him could not respond to his inquiries. He would so much rather hear her confession from her own lips, but alas, she remained still on the floor of the cell were she was roughly deposited some hours earlier.

The small cell was kept cold by a vent in the ceiling running constant air flow. Attuned as she must have been to the miserable heat of her desert home planet, Hux allowed a quirked smile when he saw the prisoner reflexively shudder. Gone were sand-colored scraps she called clothes, replaced now by the more functional thin white fabric tunic and pants, designated for all First Order humanoid prisoners. Her feet were bare, and there was no blanket provided.

Her brunette hair might have been styled at one point, but he could no longer tell; it was a tangled mess around her face. Hux frowned. More the pity. If she was cleaned up, she might be reasonably appealing. Her breathing was quiet and even, and despite the purple and black smudges under her eyes, her skin was like porcelain. He longed to run his fingers along her smooth cheek, but stopped himself. _What was he thinking?!_ She was filth, a worthless member of the doomed Resistance. A scavenger!

 _Leave_ _now_ , he urged himself, _you've had your look_. He had garnered several surprised looks when he opted to question the prisoner himself. He had his minions to take care of such unsavory work. It was business for stormtroopers, not a general, and yet, he wanted to see this girl for himself. She remained, incredibly, a precious commodity for that terror Kylo Ren, fickle enforcer that he was. Hux simply wanted to see what all the fuss was about with this girl. Seeing her now, thin, pale and sickly, he was not impressed.

There was no one to witness him, so the First Order general took in a breath and knelt next to the prisoner. “Rumor has it,” he began, licking his bottom lip, “that you nearly defeated a Knight of the Ren in combat.” Naturally, he didn't expect her to answer, but it felt good to address her all the same. Conspiratorially, Hux lowered his voice. “Might I say, my dear, that we are all _very_ disappointed that you failed in your task.”

The prisoner's breathing was still steady, and emboldened, Hux moved a bit closer. “The Supreme Leader says you are valuable, but,” he mused, boldly reaching out and stroking her bare arm with the back of his hand, “I think you hold all the worth of a spent Twi'lek whore.”

He let the comment linger in the air, satisfied. Just then, impossibly, a vice-like grip caught his wrist. Horrified, General Hux looked down into the burning eyes of a _very_ awake Rey.

“You...but...” he stammered, still unable to process her actions.

Rey wrenched his arm back into an impossible angle, and he cried out for the guards. Stormtroopers entered the cell moments later, their bewildered gazes moving from the prisoner to the struggling general.

“Get her!” he ordered, though it came out as a whine.

It took two solid hits from the butt of the blaster to knock Rey out again. Free and gasping for air, the General Hux bolted from the cell, ignoring the concerned, “ _Are you alright, sir_?” from the stormtrooper.

Fuming, the General stormed down the hall, cradling his arm and wrist. _The sooner this girl was dead, the better!_

 

{}{}{}{}{}

**Tosylk 5 th Moon, Resistance Outpost**

Resistances members scurried like busy ants in the temporary headquarters they occupied. Despite the recent victory in destroying the Starkiller base and super-weapon, the mood was tense. Inventories of fighters, food and medical supplies, tech and remaining personnel were done with grim precision. The members, new and old, were used to constant motion. The New Order was too big and too powerful for the Resistance to operate in one location for more than a few weeks at a time. Like a battle-worn army, they packed and moved on to the next location at a moment's notice.

In the corner, removed from the chaos, sat the sparsely equipped medical cot, and lying on it, the man whispered to be a former stormtrooper. Spies were so commonplace that his presence was not accepted until the General herself helped treat his wounds. The aging princess was a ubiquitous force in the Resistance; she went where her aid was needed, and she always _knew_ _when_ it was needed. This ability baffled the younger members, but the older ones gave a knowing look.

General Leia Organa held the dark hand of Fin. He grimaced and blinked his eyes. “I feel terrible,” he muttered, to no one in particular.

She smiled sadly. “I've heard that one before,” she told him, and gave his hand a squeeze before settling down to business. “We're lucky Chewie found you before...” she couldn't bring herself to continue. So she settled on, “we've patched you up the best we can. Our healer says you'll have some scars, but that builds character.”

Fin chuckled and then winced as the action sent a shock wave of pain through his back. Leia gave him a moment, her soft brown eyes intent on his face.

“Where's Rey?” Fin asked, easing himself up on the cot. He took an anxious look around the crowded room, but saw only the unfamiliar faces of the Resistance members hard at work.

To her credit, Leia held her gaze steady. “Fin,” she began slowly, and with certainty, “Chewie didn't find Rey. _He just found you_.”

Fin cried something unintelligible, and instinctually, Leia reached out and held him as he sobbed against her shoulder. “We are _so sorry_ for her loss,” she said, a tear slipping down her cheek. “Rey was strong. She will be missed.”

Fin pulled back, wiping his eyes quickly with his hand. “ _He did it._ ” He paused, before brokenly shouting, “he did it!” The whole room stopped for a moment to look at him before returning to their duties. Leia, for her part, maintained a quiet dignity. Fin needed solace. He needed a rock. _He needed a cause._

Even so, the General was too smart not to know of whom Fin alluded to. It made her heart heavier. Before the healer had spoken to her, she recognized the lightsaber slashes on Fin's back when he was brought back to them, nearly dead. Only the years of training herself to hold her emotions in check under a strong, regal facade enabled her to endure the shame. _Her son_ , traitor and killer, had made his mark on yet another innocent.

“There is no good left in him,” she admitted quietly, refocusing Fin with her words. “That's why, with your help, we will go after the First Order. We will destroy the twisted doctrine that he follows.”

“And Kylo Ren?”

“I'll kill him myself before I see him harm another one of my people,” she said, her gaze hardening. Fin believed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ewww isn't General Hux such a creep? That scene practically wrote itself. This chapter was mostly minor characters, I know, but the plot needs to move along with their help. If I focused just on Kylo and Rey it wouldn't work. They deserve more complexity than that.


	5. The Vision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey sees something important. Kylo has misgivings about his master's orders. The Resistance finds an unlikely aide.

By this time, Rey was thoroughly tired of waking up to cruel overhead lights and a throbbing skull. She groaned and felt her head. Above her temple, her brunette hair was caked with dried blood, testament to the stormtrooper's brutal hit. Still, the look on that revolting First Order General's face when he realized that she was awake...Rey allowed herself to smile. She would do it again in a heartbeat.

She eased herself up, pleased to see that she was not handcuffed. She wrapped her arms around herself and tried to rub feeling back into her chilled limbs. Space was cold, and colder still for prisoners. The prison cell was barren steel panels bolted together, austere and functional. Little had changed, in fact, since the design of the previous prison cells used by the Empire, she realized. There was no electronic pad to be seen, so she supposed all the controls for the door were located on the outside.

A ration cube had been dumped in front of her, several feet away. Rey was too hungry to be prideful as she pulled herself over to it. Reaching out and grabbing the cube, she took a huge bite. It was tasteless and stale, but she hardly noticed, closing her eyes at the simple luxury of food. Despite her present circumstances, it was a relief not to have to earn her meal.

When she swallowed the last of her rations, she looked down at her stricken lower limbs. Every muscle and bone in her torso and arms ached in a way she had never known possible, and yet she didn't feel the loss of movement in her legs as keenly as she thought she would. It was an odd phenomenon, to feel whole after so debilitating an injury, but there was a tangible peace that surrounded her. She lay back on the cold floor and closed her eyes, awash in the sensation. She quieted her mind, letting it move beyond the confines of her broken body—

_“Are you certain?” came the distant voice. She knew the voice belonged to the First Order general._

_And the response, “yes, it's them. They've only just arrived. It would be a devastating blow.” That shallow, mechanized breathing. Kylo Ren._

Their forms were far less clear than the voices, which had a wave-like quality of a mirage. Even this flickered in and out of her vision, but she knew with every fiber of her being that what she was seeing was real. 

_“Excellent,” Hux told Kylo. “Now we can be done with the Resistance scum once and for all.”_

Rey's eyes snapped open, and once again, her mind—along with her body—was trapped with her in the prison cell. Her hands dug into the floor. What had she just seen? It was like she was there...but wasn't. Did the conversation happen just now? In the past? Was it a vision of the future?

The flickering images were hauntingly similar to her unbidden reaction upon touching Luke Skywalker's lightsaber the first time. She felt something that she didn't want to acknowledge. Ignorance was the easy, attractive path. And yet the content of the conversation regarded the fate of her friends. It felt good to think the word. _Friends._ And she had to try to help them, whatever the cost.

It was much harder the second time to quiet her racing heartbeat and frantic thoughts. Rey squeezed her eyes closed and hissed in frustration after an hour of nothing but the cold of her cell. This _force_ was impossible! She slapped the floor, her teeth clenched. Whatever Kylo Ren tapped into seemed far more tangible and powerful than the flimsy control she possessed.

“ _Slow your breathing. Yes, that's it. Allow the force to flow through you.”_

_It was not her instruction; she had only overheard it once...long ago. Another nameless, faceless memory._ Rey sank deeper into the void. _Suddenly, she realized she was beyond the ship, beyond the thousands of crew moving about their duties. She didn't need them. Who did she need?_

_She called out into the darkness. “Fin, please hear me. You are all in danger.”_

_Glimpses of her friend appeared, like a washed out image ahead of her. When the vision clarified, she saw him leaning over a battle projection, his face lined with worry. Where was the man who had such a beautiful smile, the one she was proud to call her friend? Blurred figures entered and exited her small view all around him._

_“Fin, please!”_

_It didn't matter. He couldn't hear her. But someone else looked up. Staring directly at her, General Organa stiffened._

_Rey repeated her disembodied message. “Please, the First Order knows where you are. Leave now!”_

_Rey wanted to linger, wanted to know that the General understood her, but she felt her consciousness being hauled back, and a coldness seep into her._

**_Clever girl_ ** **,** came the taunting whisper. 

_Get out of my head!_ Rey seethed, eyes open. The connection severed.

 

{}{}{}{}{}

 

Alone in his quarters, Kylo Ren jarred himself from his meditation. He had felt Rey's presence in the force the instant she reached out. She was like a lightning bolt, true and bright, and like a voyeur, he watched from afar until the end. Once again, he was left astounded at her achievements based only on innate feeling rather than training. A Jedi Master would struggle to reach across the galaxy in the way she had just attempted. Even more disturbing, he knew that Rey had witnessed a conversation between himself and General Hux that had not occurred yet. 

She didn't know that, of course. Kylo opened his eyes and breathed deeply. No matter. The predicted future was tricky business, but the events she witnessed were inevitable. Scrambled coordinates to the Resistance base had been retrieved from a damaged X-wing astromech droid and should be ready within the hour. Presently, the First Order destroyer could not arrive any faster to the Resistance base even with Rey's disembodied warning, and there was only one soul in the whole of the Resistance who might have a chance at understanding the plea.

Kylo refused to give _her_ another thought. The pursuit of the rebels was only a minor delay before he would have leave to complete his training with the Supreme Leader, but nonetheless, a vital one. He needed a victory, and the demise of the Resistance would reaffirm his place at the Snoke's side.

_Unless he replaces you with...her_ , Kylo thought, fear creeping through him. Rey was powerful in the force, and she had gone undiscovered for so long already. Kylo was not convinced that the Supreme Leader's training methods would suffice on her; torture had its limitations, as he well knew. She needed to be guided, to be given the reassurance she so desperately sought. Snoke would not guide her; he would use her, break her, then kill her. Not unlike a comet, the scavenger would be brilliant while she lasted, then splinter apart into oblivion.

Kylo had kept her alive thus far, unbeknownst to the Supreme Leader, and he would not have that be her fate. If Rey were to die, it would be at  _his_ will, not for the cold amusement of Snoke. 

Kylo winced as he stood. He was covered in sweat, and still very weak from his exertions over the last few days, but he had kept it well hidden. Physical weakness would be preyed upon. He glanced down at his bare stomach. The scar that had been healing so well from the blaster wound was now angry red and split open at the edges. 

He walked stiffly into the refresher unit in his quarters and relaxed into the hot steam as it hit his body. Diluted maroon blood drained out around his feet. He did not luxuriate long; once the sweat washed away, he stepped out and began dressing in fresh clothing. At once, Kylo was thankful for the thick black tunic and heavy belt. It would help hide his wounds from prying eyes. And to cover the grotesque scar on his face, he settled his mask into place. Instantly, he felt power flood though him. 

 

{}{}{}{}{}

 

General Leia Organa reached for the edge of the table, her eyes wide. Fin saw her haunted expression and rushed to her side. With a familiarity she wasn't accustomed with, he gripped her shoulders and helped steady her.

“What is it?” he asked quietly, searching her face. The activity bustling around them slowed down, and within moments, all gazes focused in on them. 

“I can't be sure,” she murmured, trying to understand the images, the emotions. Leia drew in a breath, the authoritative guise settling on her once again. 

“No, I  _do_ know. I felt...a warning.” She raised her chin and met the frightened gazes of the Resistance members. “The First Order knows we're here,” she said firmly. “We need to go.”

There was no argument. What the General demanded, the General received. The room and its occupants burst into action once more. 

In the midst of all of it, Fin raised an eyebrow. “How to you know?” he questioned. Anyone else, and Leia would have been riled at the impertinence, but there was genuine confusion in his eyes. 

“I felt something, Fin. Something...someone powerful, was trying to warn us.”

He frowned. “It could be a trap.”

She shook her head. “No, it didn't feel like that. I can't explain it...but the intentions were pure.”

His firm expression softened. “Could it be Skywalker?”

Leia offered a sad smile upon hearing the name. Her brother had abandoned them, a painful reaction to his own failures. Hurt pricked at her. Did he know the direness of their situation? Or had he fully consigned himself to a life of egoistic solitude, like Ben Kenobi and Yoda before him? 

“I don't know. But I hope so.” Leia touched Fin's hand reassuringly. “Don't worry. It'll be fine. Just help the others with the evacuation.”

“I will. And I have a few ideas for when the First Order arrives.”

“I'm glad you're on our side, Fin.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments and kudos! I deeply appreciate every one.


	6. Flight

_Rey rappelled down the cavernous turbine compartment of the aging destroyer, the rope scratching and friction warming her hands despite her homemade gloves. A bag of scavenged parts was tied securely on her utility belt. It had taken hours of searching to come across even this meager reward, but it would be enough to feed her for the day if Unkar Plutt was feeling generous._

_Wind and sand particles whipped past her body as she sped downwards. It was the only time the heat didn't seem oppressive. It was the only time she felt free. Faster she went, trusting the strength of the rope and the litheness of her body. Two hundred meters from the floor, one hundred...sixty...._

_Suddenly, the rope disappeared from her hands. She was falling. Truly falling. Arms spread, eyes wide, she waited for back-breaking impact—_

_Rey sat up_ , heart pounding. The dream—and her fall—was hauntingly real, but she knew it had never happened. 

She wiped her brow with the back of her hand and looked over at the by the prison cell door. Another ration cube awaited her, likely dropped off while she was asleep. Without thinking, she shifted onto her hands and knees and crawled toward it. 

She paused in mid-motion. She had willed her legs to move,  _and they did_ . The realization came with a price; she promptly collapsed on her stomach. Rey's heart still thudded wildly against her chest. She shivered, feeling the chill of the steel floor on her legs through the thin fabric of her clothing.

Breathing hard, she bit her lip.  _This couldn't be. She wasn't supposed to be able to use her legs ever again, let alone have sensation in them._ She had nearly accepted her fate as a wretched invalid until the First Order disposed of her. 

What then, of this second chance? 

Tentatively, Rey flipped over onto her back and tried to move a toe. She was sore and weak, but her toe responded as it always had. Delighted, she wiggled all her toes from both feet. The how and why questions still pulsed through her mind, but she didn't want to dwell on unknowns. She had to get strong again.  _She had hope now!_

Her muscles were atrophied from disuse, but after several moments, she willed herself into a shaky standing position. Despite having to brace herself with one hand against the wall, it felt odd and wonderful to stand on her feet again. Emboldened, Rey took a step—and landed backwards hard, the wind knocked out of her. She waited a second, listening for a stormtrooper to burst into her cell at the noise. Tense moments passed, but when no one appeared, Rey pushed herself up and tried again, this time with greater success. 

Sweat soaked her clothing from her exertions, but it nothing to diminish the ghost of a smile on her face.  _The First Order had not beaten her yet._

 

{}{}{}{}{}

 

Even if just for his own amusement, Kylo Ren allowed the conversation between himself and General Hux to play out as exactly as Rey had foreseen. To have Hux be an unwitting pawn was a pleasant feeling. If the Supreme Leader was not so enamored with the general, Kylo would have ended Hux's miserable existence years ago in the painful way he could contrive. The man showed blind allegiance to his cause. Kylo felt his loyalties were somewhat more flexible. Power was a transient thing, after all. 

He stared out at into space. Threads of betrayal tore at his mind. General Hux intended the girl as gift to the Supreme Leader, assuring his position to rule for the foreseeable future. He was ignorant that Kylo had no intention of allowing this to happen. The scavenger was valuable in a way that Hux, a non-force user, could never respect or understand. 

Kylo allowed himself an amused but hidden grin when he noted the sling around Hux's arm. He didn't ask what happened, and the general offered no explanation, but rumors circulated quickly that the girl had done it. Kylo only wished he could have witnessed the moment himself. It would have given him such enjoyment to hear Hux scream in agony. 

“Kylo Ren, sir.”

He turned slowly, standing eye to eye with the chrome stormtrooper, Captain Phasma. 

“Yes, Captain?” 

She nodded curtly and presented him with a lightsaber. 

“I believe this belongs to you, sir.”

He took it without saying anything. She nodded again left him alone. Grateful for the mask, Kylo gripped the handle of his grandfather's lightsaber.  _So it was not lost after all_ . It was destiny, that this weapon and rightful owner should be reunited. He had to resist the powerful urge to ignite it, just to bask in the serene azure glow. What would his grandfather say, knowing the weapon was in his possession now? It was the same blade that cut down scores of Jedi, that Anakin had carried when he took his oath to Palpatine, that his Uncle Luke had lost decades later during battle—

“Still prefer that archaic contraption to a good blaster?”

Kylo stiffened at Hux's inane comment. The general had crept up behind him, interrupting his musings. It was unbearably tempting to ignite the lightsaber and bury the blade in the general's chest. With more restraint than he had shown in ages, Kylo stepped past Hux and silently exited the bridge. Insults came in many forms, and he knew Hux would recognize his. 

 

{}{}{}{}{}

 

Her limbs ached in the best possible way. Allowing herself to rest, Rey lay on the floor, trying to sort out her emotions. She could not deny the sense of urgency that permeated her thoughts.  _Something was happening_ , and she would not survive it if she stayed locked in this room. 

It was useless thinking she could trick another stormtrooper; no one had entered her cell since General Hux. There were no panels she could break into and override. 

Rey turned onto her side and curled her legs toward her chest. It was damnably cold here. 

Her eyes widened. 

_It was cold._

The vent. 

She looked up, her excitement diminishing. It was easily a three meter tall ceiling. Even her dexterous past as a scavenger did not prepare her for such a vault, compounded by the fragility of her body right now. Still, what other option did she have?

Rey took a quick assessment of the barren room. There was nothing to stand on, and nothing to break off to help her reach. She was on her own. 

But then again, she was used to that. Gritting her teeth, Rey focused her attention on the ceiling, her hand extended upwards. 

_Move,_ she willed the grate. 

It did nothing. 

She took a deep breath, and tried again.  _Please_ , she thought, _move_ . Still nothing happened.

Sweat broke out anew on her forehead. She could feel the vibrations in the floor of stormtroopers marching down that hallway a wall away from her. They were preparing for an invasion. If her vision had been true, it was her friends that were at risk. 

_She was afraid for them._ She was  _angry_ about the loss of Han Solo,  _furious_ about the sadness she saw on Finn's face, and  _bitter_ about being trapped, useless and wounded, with the enemy. 

Something akin to a growl ripped past her throat, and the vent's grate jolted aside with a loud clank. Rey stared at it in disbelief. It worked, and yet this didn't feel like the other times.  _She felt raw power surging through her rather than peace._

Holding onto that feeling, she made another shoving motion with her hand, causing the grate to move aside fully. Rey stood on shaky legs directly under the vent. Her body could not make the jump. She would need to channel something more. 

_My friends will suffer. I hate this place,_ she thought.  _I hate the First Order_ . That power, black and turbulent, flowed through her anew, and she jumped. 

Her fingers just caught on the edge. Slowly, Rey pulled herself over into the vent overhead, and collapsed on the base of it. For a long moment she lay there, breathing hard. This space was even colder than her cell, and tight even for her lithe frame. She closed her eyes, trying to replay the layout of the decades old Empire destroyer she had picked apart on Jakku. She knew enough of the layout would be the same. She could make it.

Anger might have helped her escape the cell, but calmness would get her though the maze of the destroyer. Rey pushed aside the dark feelings, and focused again on her escape.

She had to crawl through the claustrophobic space on her stomach, her elbows occasionally knocking into side of the panels. She paused, willing herself to be more quiet. Onwards she crawled, shifting direction sometimes by memory, other times by instinct. 

Another squadron of stormtroopers passed by underneath her. Rey laid flat and held her breath. She didn't have much time. When she was certain the last footfalls had gone by, she crawled forward and made a sharp left. A grate was before her. Rey peered down it into the dark room below. It took a few seconds for her eyes to focus on the murky objects below, but she grinned.  _Perfect, a supply room._

Latching her fingers around the metal, she pulled. It made a horrible scratching noise as the heavy metal protested, but after several painstaking tries, she eased it aside and dropped down. 

Her landing was anything but graceful. Her back was tender and her legs were weak, but she was no worse for wear when she stiffly rose to her feet. Rey wasted no time feeling for the smooth armored plates and began to strap the pieces on. They were heavier than she expected and cumbersome, but she had no choice. Escape on this vessel alone would be nearly impossible without deception. 

The room was quite dark, but her eyes had adjusted. She felt around at the back of the locker for the blaster. Seconds later, her fingers touched the muzzle. She was thankful that the First Order had the foresight to store each stormtrooper armor with a corresponding gun. 

She pressed her ear to the door and heard nothing. Quickly shoving the white helmet on, Rey exited and stepped into the hallway. She needed to go the landing bay, where all the other troops were headed. 

“Stormtrooper!”

Rey stopped dead, panic seeping through her. Captain Phasma appeared from behind her, tall and menacing. Light refected off the stark chrome armor. 

“What is your designation?” the Captain ordered.

Rey quickly glanced down at her wrist, where the numbers were imprinted. “FN-1985.” 

“Why aren't you with your squadron?”

“My blaster was scorched. I needed a replacement,” Rey answered quickly, surprised at how different her voice sounded through the helmet's audio. 

The Captain glared at her. “You are moving very slow. I expect you to join your squadron immediately.”

“Yes, sir.”

Rey couldn't escape quick enough. Feeling the penetrating gaze of the Captain, she prayed that she was making the right directional choices as she navigated the rest of her route. Ahead of her, a group of stormtroopers marched in rows of three. She fell into line with them at the rear and entered the massive hanger. 

Tie fighters, landing vessels, and stormtroopers—thousands of them—were amassed in the expansive room. This was no invasion force—this was an army designed for annihilation. Rey stood tall at attention and held her weapon like the others did. General Hux walked out onto a platform above, his fist raised. 

“Today, the First Order will destroy the last shreds of the worthless Resistance. Be proud that you have lived to see this day. If you are strong, if you are worthy, you will live to see a greater tomorrow!”

There was a collective affirmative chant that echoed in the room, and then the stormtroopers filed into the ships with precision. Heart pounding, Rey had no choice but to turn and march with her group onto a black ship. 

_Something is wrong._ Rey gripped the blaster tighter and tried to remain inconspicuous. The ship could accommodate several dozen of them, but even so, comfort was not on the minds of First Order, as she realized that she was still expected to stand shoulder to shoulder with the others. She stared straight ahead, willing the pilot to ignite the engines. She was  _so close_ to escaping. 

And then, in a swirl of heavy black robes, Kylo Ren walked lazily up the ship's ramp, Skywalker's lightsaber hanging from his belt. Rey closed her eyes, and held her breath as he approached. 

_I am nothing. I feel nothing. I am nothing. I feel nothing._

Rey repeated her mantra until she felt numb. Kylo Ren's helmet turned a minuscule degree in her direction, but his stride did not slow. The ship vibrated underneath them and the ramp closed. Another jolt, and she knew they were airborne. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	7. The Pursuit

 

It was unusually still when the ramp lowered. The stormtroopers filed out, blasters raised. Rey's breath sounded harsh in her ears from helmet as she looked around her, trying to follow the tactics of the other stormtroopers. They fanned out cautiously, a few signaling forward with a hand gesture. Rey stayed at the back of the group and moved towards one of the cavern walls. Behind her, Kylo Ren descended the ramp casually. She could sense his menacing presence, like an angry specter lingering over her shoulder. Relief flooded through her when, in her periphery, she saw Kylo's tall, dark form turn and disappear down an adjacent tunnel. Like her, he seemed to be on an alternative mission.

The wet environment of the planet provided the damp, heavy air and swirls of dark green and brown moss that crept alone the moisture-slick stone floor. The cavern was immense, with side chambers and tunnels. An occasional hole in the ceiling of rock allowed beams of pale light to shine through. Had she not been in such a precarious situation, Rey would have enjoyed the sight.

There were obvious signs of activity: crates overturned, scuff marks on the ground from the dragging of heavy objects, and errant plasma burns on the walls from an engine repair.  _Her friends had been here._ Rey's heart leapt. Perhaps she wasn’t far behind.

Fragments of a shattered glass viewing screen crunched loudly under her boots. White helmets turned in unison to glare at her. Rey gripped her blaster and stared repentantly at the ground. She had to maintain focus.

She moved on the edge of the group for a few steps. The Resistance had been here, she had no doubt. Rey ducked around a stone wall of the abandoned base. Did they hear her message? She had no idea, but at least their escape was one less victory for the First Order.

She peered down the dark corridor before her. If the Resistance had any sense, they would hide their most valuable fighters away from view. She slowed her pace from the others and dropped back even further. Maybe she could find one fighter that had been scrapped and resurrect it?

“Stormtrooper, why are you not in position?” It was a commanding officer of some sort. He approached her with heavy strides that echoed in the cavern.

Rey straightened, casting a longing glance down the hallway. She turned slowly and tapped her earpiece in her helmet.

The other stormtrooper sighed through his mic. “Get back to the ship. Await further instructions.”

Vulgarities in several languages hurled through her mind as Rey placidly moved after him. A step later, she halted.

_**No.** _

_She had come this far._

“There could be Resistance hiding in these caverns, sir,” she argued. “I need to verify.”

She could feel the irritation coming off the superior stormtrooper in waves.

“Be quick about it,” the officer relented, and walked off in the opposite direction.

Rey was certain she was being tracked now—if not visually, then by a signal produced in the stormtrooper suit. She turned another corner and dropped her blaster to the ground. She pulled off the helmet and flipped open the panel in the back, searching for a short range chip. Rey frowned. Sure enough, she could make out the dull blue glow hidden behind a thick bundle of wires. To remove it would require her to rip out the wiring first, which would destroy the ventilator system in the helmet. Not that it mattered on this planet—it clearly had a breathable atmosphere—but it would mean she would have to remain unmasked and risk discovery, or maintain anonymity with the mask and risk suffocation.

Her choice was easy. She ripped out the wiring and then the chip, crunching it into a hundred pieces under the heel of her boot. Grabbing the blaster again, she took a quick look over her shoulder and continued down the hall as fast as her legs could carry her. Her stormtrooper helmet lay abandoned on the rock floor.

She did not go unseen.

{}{}{}{}{}

 

Escorting a landing party was somewhat beneath him, especially on a routine sweep such as this. The First Order had been through dozens of these hastily abandoned Resistance bases, all showing the same signs of panicked disorganization, poor equipment, and questionable competency of basic wartime tactics.

But here he was anyway, ignoring the raised eyebrow of Hux and the simmering obedient resentment of Captain Phasma. Broken debris crunched under Kylo Ren's heavy boots. He stopped near a crate, his gloved fingers brushing along the rough surface. He felt a rush of the force coursing through him as he was slammed with the image. _His mother was here._

He was always temporarily thrown off balance when he connected with her light. Even if just for a second, it exposed the widening cracks in his darkness, the ones he struggled so hard to conceal. He remembered her warm brown eyes and sad smile, her gentle words when he had nightmares. He could sense the lingering emotion, like dust in the air. _She cared for him still, despite everything._

Helmet bowed, Kylo's fists clenched as he summoned the teachings of the Supreme Leader, the one who truly knew how to bring peace to his troubled soul. _Purge her memory, Kylo_ , Snoke had whispered, a grin ripping across his grotesque face.

_**Purge.** _

The Knight of Ren straightened as he exhaled. His mother had abandoned him as a child to an egotistical fool, given him up like chattel so she could pursue her insatiable need for politics. His mother was a warmonger. He may have used the First Order with brutal efficiency, but it was for peace, to quell the uprisings his mother desperately sought to create. There were many deaths on his hands, but her hands dripped with blood as well.

The realization came with horrifying clarity. It was never his father's death that would complete his journey to the dark side— _it was his mother's._ Anger swelled in him, comfortable and potent. Snoke had probably known all along that the true test wasn't to face Han Solo, it was to eliminate Leia Organa. Solo had no gift for the force—to confront him had been almost insulting. But Kylo's mother—to best the progeny of Darth Vader was far more challenging. She would continue to run, like her brother, but he would find her. He was already closer.

 

{}{}{}{}{}

 

 

The halls proved a nightmarish maze of tunnels, some mined, others natural. Rey pressed herself against the damp wall and listened to the steady sound of water droplets hitting the rock floor below. The occasional shaft of light illuminated enough for her to decipher evidence of Resistance activity, but that had stopped some time ago. Her missing presence, signal or no signal, would surely be noticed by now.

Worse, she was lost.

Unbidden, her heartbeat thudded loudly in her ears. Panic began to take hold. Her escape plan had been foolishly bold and relied heavily on luck. She didn’t want to perish in this wet, dark place, and especially at the hands of the First Order. Rey closed her eyes, furiously trying to calm herself.

_Where do I go? Lead me…_ she called out with mind. Her breathing and heartbeat slowed, and when she opened her eyes, the Resistance was around her. She knew instantly they weren’t  _really_ there; their images wavered like visions before, but it felt real. The battle scared helmets of the engineers, the tired, patched clothing, the clatter of repair instruments echoing when someone dropped them. A pilot garbed in an orange jumpsuit ran frantically past her. Rey followed, taking the same winding route as the woman, dodging people and droids as if they were really there. It was hard to keep up in the cumbersome stormtrooper suit, but she managed to keep the vision of the pilot just within sight. 

The woman slowed and began to climb up a phantom x-wing fighter. She locked gazes with Rey, and the vision of her melted away, along with the fighter. Rey blinked and looked around. She stood in an even larger cavern than the one the First Order had landed in, and while lacking a spare X-wing, this one held  _exactly_ what she needed. 

Suddenly, the eerie quiet of the cavern was shattered by the echo of pounding footfalls.

 

{}{}{}{}{}

 

Kylo Ren stopped dead in his tracks, his cloak whipping around him. The ripple in the force was unmistakable.  _The girl was here_ . He was right. That same raw power, unchecked but pure, surged around her, lighting her like a beacon. Curiosity overrode his irritation at her escape from the  _Finalizer_ , and he changed course to follow. 

Captain Phasma’s clipped voice came over his communications link in his helmet. “We are prepared to leave, sir. The Resistance is not here.”

His long stride didn’t waver for a second.

“Send the squadron immediately to my coordinates,” he ordered, killing the link before she could argue it.

He couldn’t see what Rey could see, but he had no doubt she was tapping into visions of the past. What other way could she move with such determined confidence, like she had been here before? By his estimation, the Resistance must have fled within hours of the First Order’s arrival; the girl would have never visited this place before. 

Kylo blended in with the shadows, the turning his helmet away from the occasion beam of light to prevent a stray reflection off the inlay chrome design. His gloves and shoulders were soaked from staying close to the damp rock walls, and the hem of his sodden cloak slapped miserably against his boots. More exhausted than he was willing to admit, his fists tightened. The raw wound on his side ached with every step. The sooner he could leave this foul place, the better.

He felt Rey’s presence long before he saw her stark white stormtrooper suit, a pillar of white against the brown and gray rock walls. She was standing in the center of a massive cavern, its ceiling easily fifty meters high and containing a fissure opening just enough for a good pilot to manage a fighter through. Light poured in, highlighting the moss and slime and pools of collected water. Her pale reflection wavered at her feet as she stared ahead. Something in the rear of the cavern clearly captivated her attention.

Kylo paused, not wanted to give her another opportunity for flight. He felt for his grandfather's lightsaber hanging at his belt. Something was amiss—didn’t the girl sense it? Or was she blinded by her inexperience and hubris? He wanted to move closer, but was interrupted by the cacophony of heavy footfalls echoing around him.  _As silent as a herd of Banthas_ , he thought with contempt, and stepped out of the darkness to meet the arriving stormtrooper squadron. Even so, his gaze never left the girl, who turned and saw them. Even from his distance, he could see her wide-eyed expression.

She bolted, Kylo moving after her almost instantaneously. He clenched his teeth under his mask, wishing he was recovered enough to use the force to freeze her in her tracks. Every step was agony. Somewhere in the distance, Captain Phasma ordered “blasters ready!”, but the idiot troops were far from his attention.

_**Danger!** _

The whisper of the force, of instinct, of experience pulled him to a stop. Breathing hard through the helmet’s respirator, Kylo looked around. 

There—the almost imperceptible blinking orange light of a charge hidden behind an outcropping of rock. And another behind the crate. He didn’t need to see the others to know that they were surrounded by charges. Oblivious, Rey spun and fired a shot at the group of stormtroopers.  _No! Stupid girl, they were doomed._

“Stop!” He cried out, whether to warn the troops or the girl, he didn’t know. “It’s a trap!”

It was too late. Before Phasma could halt the command, several stormtroopers fired retaliatory shoots. A stray blaster bolt hit the rock outcropping, and the sinister Resistance trap lying behind it. It was too close to the girl. She would never survive the explosion.

The Knight of the Ren let out pained scream in unison with the fearsome detonations around him. Time slowed. He stretched out his arm and summoned the girl to him with what little strength he had left. Sensors were blaring warnings in his helmet, and the oppressive heat scorched his back. In the same instant, the body of Rey was thrown back and landed at his feet. Kylo collapsed over her, pelted by fire, rocks and exploding debris. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated! Thanks for reading!


	8. Abscond

_“It’s collapsing!--”_

The cry of the stormtrooper was cut off as a rock the size of a ship broke away and crushed him. The whole cavern had turned into hell. Fires raged while stones rained down on them from high above. Even the First Order landing cruisers were buried. With every explosion, the cracks in the wall widened, further destabilizing the abandoned base. 

An alarm warning triggered in his helmet, shaking him back into reality. Kylo Ren slowly opened his eyes with a raspy gasp. The air in the cavern grew thick with poisonous fumes from the chemical fires that smoldered from the Resistance bombs. He had to leave or risk suffocation. 

_The girl._

He felt her crumpled body beneath him, so he shifted his weight onto his arms. She was unconscious. All the better, as he had no desire to fight. He leaned back onto his heels and quickly looked her over. The girl's dark hair was bloodied and matted from a superficial head wound, but the stormtrooper suit appeared to have stopped much of the potential blast damage to the rest of her body. The irony did not escape him.

Another explosion shook the ground, reminding him of the urgency of their plight. Where his human eyes failed, Kylo was grateful for the helmet’s sensors. He looked up in the direction that Rey had been fleeing towards. Despite the thick smoke, the flickering optical sensor picked up just enough of the distant frame to spur him to his feet. Kylo picked the unconscious girl up and moved towards it, his steps painfully slow. Drops of crimson marked his path, and he fought to keep his grip on her. He could feel thick heat from the flames that licked at his cloak and boots as he walked. 

When he arrived, he sneered. The girl's intended escape vehicle, and now his, was  a retrofitted T-47 airspeeder, abandoned by the Resistance. Up close, he could see several of its hull plates were missing from the blasts, and even now, lacking a proper landing gear, it leaned precariously on one wing to support its bulk. The basest junk dealers would hesitate to take this ship as scrap. 

He didn't detect any more bombs, and warily moved closer. 

There was no ladder to ascend into the cockpit, so Kylo climbed onto the wing and dropped his burden into the rear-facing tail gunner seat. Rey slumped ungracefully against the window, but he could feel her presence in the force, steady and tranquil. 

Far different from himself.

Pain ripped through his chest and back as Kylo vaulted weakly over the opposite windows and settled himself into the pilot's seat. The old ship groaned with the heavy addition. He reflexively pulled the cockpit closed and ripped off his oppressive helmet. He leaned back against the headrest, his dark hair soaked with sweat and plastered to his brow. His breath was no more than a strained, bloody wheeze. He needed to leave this place, and quickly. 

The retrofitted airspeeder, a relic from the Empire days, groaned in protest as he stretched his legs out as far as they were allowed in the claustrophobic cockpit. The ship stank of mildew, and rust invaded even the inside panels. No wonder this heap was left behind. It would take all his piloting skill to keep this decrepit machine in the air, if it could fly at all. 

Gloved fingers quickly punched the rusted controls. Kylo had played on more than a few of these ships as a boy, and was surprised how easily the motions came back to him. 

Amazingly, the plasma engines ignited with a roar. The T-47s were normally surface ships, but he had to applaud the ingenuity of the Resistance engineer who added a lightspeed rigging and the patchwork of reinforced hull. Clearly, the Resistance had been desperate for airpower to outfit such a piece of junk.

Without an astromech droid, Kylo knew he would have to navigate. Outside the ship, the smoke was so thick it was like a black, ominous fog surrounding them. He closed his eyes and focused, his hands on the controls. The ship shuttered and lifted toward the fissure in the ceiling, climbing until it made it through. Relief flooded through him. 

He paused a moment, deciding on their destination, then punched in the coordinates. The craft lifted higher into the sky and left the smoldering Resistance base behind. 

Kylo Ren was almost certain of their demise as they cleared the upper atmosphere. His vision blacked in and out of consciousness. The ship vibrated so heavily his teeth rattled. 

The massive  _Finalizer_ hovered like a predator ahead of them, waiting for the kill. He knew  they must have picked up the signal of the airspeeder by now. In fact, the bridge officers were probably hoping for a bit of sport by watching the Resistance junk ship splinter apart before them. And if they knew he was the pilot...Kylo could all but see Hux's exuberance at his untimely and humiliating demise. 

The Knight of Ren refused to give that weasel the privilege, even as he took note of the obligatory TIE fighters flying in formation towards him. He didn't have much time left.

His gloved hand rested on the ramshackle switches.

Whether by his injuries or exhaustion, the present drifted away from him, and he was in another cockpit, just as ramshackle, but achingly familiar.

 

_He was small enough that his feet dangled from the copilot seat. His father sat beside him. A band of Fabrian pirate ships hovered to their aft, weapons loaded. Their threats sounded over the intercom, and just then, the Falcon jolted in protest from the pirates’ warning shot._

_His mother was going_ _to_ _be furious._

_“We’re never going to make it,” Ben argued, his dark eyes wide. In the seat behind them, Chewie growled something in the affirmative._

_Ignoring the Wookiee, his father offered a wry, self-assured half grin. “Are you so sure?”_

_Ben looked ahead, his finger on the hyperdrive switch._

_“Punch it, kid.”_

{}{}{}{}{}

 

“Sir, it’s...gone.”

General Hux stormed up to the technician’s console of the  _Finalizer_ , his arms held stiffly behind his back. His lip curled and his pale skin had gone several shades redder. 

“What do you mean,  _gone_ ?” he hissed, “wasn’t it just an ancient Rebel B-Class airspeeder? Bits of it are still hovering out there!”

The young woman swallowed. “It jumped to lightspeed, sir.”

The General scowled. How many of these indignities was he forced to suffer? If the First Order, with all its might, could not apprehend one miserable Resistance ship, what good were they?

“Sir?”

The same technician interrupted his poisonous doubts. “We are receiving a signal from planet side, sir. It's Captain Phasma.”

Hux sighed. This had better be good news.

 

{}{}{}{}{}

 

Rey awoke to a fearsome headache and blue and orange flames rippling like a flag outside her window. Past that, a huge expanse of green and brown landscape.  _Where was she?_ She blinked, coming to her senses. The Resistance logo was etched on the console in front of her. She nearly let out a whoop. They had found her! 

The thrill vanished immediately when she realized the Resistance ship was crashing,  _and fast_ . Jerking awake, she looked at the controls before her. 

“What is this thing?” she shouted, panic seeping into her desperately wiping the grime away  from  the panels. “Don’t tell me this is an airspeeder!” Jakku’s junkyards were littered with parts from these machines. They barely survived for any great length in performing their atmospheric jobs, and were certainly never designed to sustain space travel or reentry. 

The ship shuttered around her. Rey found the override for the steering and pulled hard on the lever—it came out in her hands in a bundle of wires and sparks. She swore something that would make  Unkar Plutt blush and looked desperately for any working control, but the rest were for weapons, and surely disconnected.  _Where was the pilot?! Rey_ spun in her seat and looked back, hoping to catch a glimpse of a Resistance helmet peeking out from the other seat. Someone was there, she could feel it, but she couldn’t suppress the sense of dread that lingered. 

“Hey!” she yelled, on the hope that the comms still worked, “navigate or will we be incinerated in less than a minute!”

There was no response. The ship shook again and took a hard turn to starboard. Rey looked out the window and saw bits of the metal wing flying off. She closed her eyes and concentrated, trying desperately to block out the scream of their free fall. She knew what the controls looked like from the pilot side. She saw them in her mind. 

“Slow down,” Rey whispered, sweat breaking out on her brow. The controls did nothing, and the ground loomed even closer outside the window. 

“ _Slow down_ ,” she repeated, and the airspeeder vibrated heavily as it responded. 

Rey knew it wasn’t good enough; they were still going to crash. She was thrown forward as the nose of the ship plunged through trees, moving so quickly they were just green blurs outside the window, and then with a horrible splash—

The ship flipped over violently. Seconds or minutes could have passed—Rey had no way of knowing. Stunned, she lay sprawled on the intact glass ceiling, the seat above her. Slimy, black water crashed against the windows, growing deeper by the second. With a groan, Rey rolled and kicked at the rear window. It held. She tried again, harder this time without success.

“C’mon,” she hissed, and gave it one last attempt. The window gave, and she dropped into the cool water. It was a shock of which she never could have been prepared. Water was a luxury on her native desert planet, and in her whole life, not once had she experienced the indulgence of a bath or pool. 

Desperate to keep her head above the surface, her limbs flailed chaotically as she sputtered mouthfuls of the foul liquid. This was decidedly  _not_ the way she wanted to experience swimming for the first time. The stormtrooper suit was taking on water and making her body sink like lead. Though sheer force of will, she pulled out of it and struggled to the muddy bank, gasping for air. She had never been so relieved to touch solid ground. Her thin white First Order prisoner garments were plastered to her shivering body. She was so cold—she wasn't sure she could will her body to move again. 

_**Rey.** _

She looked up, eyes wide. She heard her name, as clearly as though someone had spoken it right next to her. 

_**Go back** _ . 

Even before she forced her gaze back to the sinking ship, somehow, she knew what she would find. Her mind still had trouble processing the image. It was impossible. Though the cockpit was half submerged, she finally saw him, his eyes closed. Helpless. Kylo Ren.  _He was the pilot?!_

Anger, betrayal, shock...she didn’t know which emotion to pick. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears and her fingers clawed the ground. She should let him drown and the universe would be well rid of him. She could have justice for Han. Justice for the misery and pain this maniac had inflicted upon countless individuals across the galaxy.

_**Rey.** _

The disembodied voice was softer this time, but just as persistent. Rey grit her teeth.  _She wouldn’t be like Kylo Ren. She wouldn’t be..._

She grabbed a long vine and looped it around her wrist, then with a deep breath, dove back into the water. Her movements were clumsy, but she made progress. The cockpit was another half meter deeper into the water when she reached the ship. Rey touched the unlocking mechanism and yelped when her fingers came back burned. The metal was still scorching hot from reentry. Leaning back, she kicked on the glass. 

It shattered, and water poured in ruthlessly. Rey couldn’t see Kylo anymore, but she felt for his arm. She tried to take hold of it and pull. He was like dead weight. 

She sputtered to the surface, took a breath, and  plunged down again. She was blind in the water, relying only on touch. She felt all around her, struggling from one place to another. Suddenly, she felt his hand brush against hers. Rey grabbed it and without hesitation, kicked upwards with all her strength. One gasp at the surface and she was pulled down again, but the process repeated. The vine provided hold for the last few meters until her feet touched the bank. Rey grit her teeth as she gave one last mighty tug, and at last, Kylo’s torso was free of the water. He was still unconscious, but alive. She released his hand and collapsed next to him. Steam hissed from  the  airspeeder as the cold water hit the last bits of hot metal, and then the ship disappeared unceremoniously beneath the surface. 

Rey didn’t know how long they just lay there, her cheek pressed against the cool mud. When she looked up, the thick tree canopy of vines and foliage made the shadows deep and the air thick to breathe. Her head pounded, and she wanted to rest, but she knew she couldn't. 

“Kylo,” she croaked, blinking at the dark form next to her. He made no response. 

“Kylo!” 

She pushed herself up and felt  the skin of his scarred cheek. He was cold and clammy. She drew her fingers back. He wasn’t dead yet, but it wouldn’t be long if she didn't get them both warm and dry. She glanced down at his legs, still submerged under the water. He hadn’t moved, even a fraction, on his own. Determined, Rey knelt behind his head and placed her hands under his armpits. She pulled, barely making any progress.

“You—”  _Heave._ “Are so—”  _Heave._ “Heavy!” she spat, finally moving him onto higher ground before she stepped away. While she had nothing but the filthy clothing that clung to her body, she reasoned that Kylo Ren would be better equipped. Taking no chances, Rey grabbed a heavy fallen branch from the ground and approached him again with narrowed eyes. She nudged open his cloak with her foot, her makeshift weapon raised to strike if needed, but he didn't stir. 

She didn't know what she expected under the layers of heavy black fabric, but there was no supply satchel or even more peculiar, no weapons that she could find. Rey cursed the austere pragmatism of the First Order, though it could have been Kylo Ren's arrogance as well. Why carry burdensome supplies when on every mission one expects a short and efficient conquest?

She fell down at his head, thirsty, tired and weak. She didn’t dare drink that water, and they had no transport, no shelter, no provisions of any kind.  _She should have just let them crash at full speed_ , Rey thought, her mouth forming a thin line. 

“Well,” she said out loud, more to herself than to him, “ _it can't get any worse, can it?_ ”

Just then, a great booming sound caused Rey to jump up and strike a defensive pose. She breathed hard, senses on alert, waiting. 

Water droplets hit her skin, finding their way through the trees until she couldn't escape the oncoming deluge. Despite everything, she laughed— _so this is what they called rain!_ She opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue. This water tasted cool and pure against her raw throat, unlike the brackish water of the swamp. Rey knelt by a fern taller than she was and redirected the moisture that gathered on its foliage into her mouth. She felt her strength returning with every greedy sip. 

_**Rey, help him before it's too late.** _

She stopped in mid swallow, eyebrows knit. Thoroughly annoyed with the curious supernatural urging to ignore any  self-preservation, she stood and glared around her. She saw nothing but the thick fauna surrounding them, bending and rocking from the heavy rain. And yet as certain as she'd been of anything, Rey knew she wasn't alone. It was as disconcerting as it was comforting.

“Why?” she called out, her voice nearly lost in the heavy rainfall, “haven't I done enough?”

She didn't get  a reply, but she didn't expect one either. With resignation, Rey turned back to the deathly still Knight of Ren. One arm was crossed over his chest, the other outstretched on the ground where she dropped it. For the first time, she got a good look at him. It was still unnerving to see the human face rather than the mask. Rain clung to the planes of his forehead and nose, on the end of his long black eyelashes, along his full bottom lip. The circles under his eyes were dark, and the lightsaber gash running the span of his cheek and neck  was  pink  and barely healed. Her perusal shifted lower. Diluted red droplets fell from the gloved fingertips of his hand resting on his chest. 

Cautiously, Rey knelt next to him, every instinct on high alarm. Her makeshift stick weapon was within easy reach. Kylo Ren was lethal and well-trained in the force, and she wasn't going to trust him for a second, even in this state. 

Biting her lip, she reached for his hand and pushed it aside, her gaze darting back up to his face. She half expected  for those eyelids to flutter, to find herself staring into a dark abyss, but there was no register of her touch at all. Emboldened, she looked back down. She knew what she had to do, and it repulsed her. Gritting her teeth, Rey reached for his heavy belt.  The clip that would have held a lightsaber was torn away, indicating that he lost his weapon in the crash, or perhaps earlier. It brought her little comfort as she  ran her hands along the leather side  of the belt  until she found the latch to remove it. With a harder tug than she needed, it came off and she tossed it aside. Finding the hem of his tunic easily now, she awkwardly untied the knot holding the sides together. The black fabric fell apart, exposing his pallid chest.

Rey had seen more than enough gruesome injuries for a lifetime, but seeing this made her stomach turn. Every inch the body of a warrior, Kylo's defined torso was a map of scars, some pale with age, others pink and as fresh as the gash along his cheek. The bowcaster wound was easy to recognize, the flesh raw and rippled from his ribs until the uppermost parts of his hip.  _He still fought both Finn and herself with such an injury._ Shame gnawed at her—no wonder she had been able to best him.

A thin trail of blood oozed slowly from his right bicep. Rey peered closer. The glint of a metal point was embedded in his skin, the tip just a few millimeters outside the flesh. The more she looked at it, the more dread filled her. She wasn't looking at the entrance wound— _she was looking at the exit._

Sitting back, the rain pelting in a steady rhythm around her, Rey put her head on her knees.  _She didn't want to do this._ She wasn't a healer, and her own injuries as a scavenger on Jakku were minor at best. Her thoughts turned darker. If their situation were reversed, would Kylo Ren come to her aid? Her very presence here made the answer elusive. 

An indeterminable amount of time passed before she found the courage to remove the cloak and the rest of his shirt. She rolled Kylo over and looked hopelessly at his back. Here again was another testament to a harsh existence, many of the scars unlike anything she had ever seen. They hinted at a terrifying story, but the burn marks, the bruises—those were fresh. Over his left scapula, the metal shard protruded out,  the metal as thick as her ring finger . It was larger on this side, and she was certain that if she pushed it through his body, she would surely kill him. Her rain slicked fingers could barely find purchase on the edge of the metal. She gave it a tug and promptly fell back hard on her backside, the shrapnel unmoved.

“See,” Rey hissed, hitting the ground  with her hand , “I tried!”

_**Do or do not.** _

She felt a wave of calm pour over her frustration, gentle and soothing. Breathing hard, Rey closed her eyes, extended her hand towards Kylo,  palm facing him . Rain dripped down her fingertips, her eyelids, her tangled hair, then her body to the ground below. She was one with this strange place. 

Rey visualized the offending piece. Fragmented images and sensations swept over her. She felt the foreign object ensnared in the tissues, the strength of the heart that still beat beneath it in a constant, slow rhythm. An ache formed in her chest, its intensity increasing until she gritted her teeth. 

_Please_ , she urged, calling upon the power she didn't understand. She felt  the  shrapnel shift within Kylo, the pain in her chest radiating outwards, doubling her over. 

And then, impossibly,  _it was in her hand_ . Gasping, Rey threw the metal piece aside. The ache in her chest diminished, and once again, she and Kylo were alone. The rain beat around them, drowning out all other sounds. 

“You're welcome,” Rey said quietly. 

 

{}{}{}{}{}

 

**Resistance Base, CYTI-32**

 

She allowed herself only brief moments of sleep. To rest in the comfort of private quarters, safe from attack and with food in her belly, was a luxury many in the galaxy no longer had. Leia never forgot it. 

She shifted onto her back, the blanket rustling with her movements. Opening her eyes, she looked at the dark ceiling. True, there were more internal reasons as well that caused her to shun resting. The dreams were nearly unbearable. 

She had never taken issue that she was not as adept a force user as her brother, or even her father. Luke’s patient but brief tutelage had opened her mind in a way that she could have never imagined possible when she was young, but she was left with an echo of awareness of the force rather than the impressive command that Luke had possessed. Still, even all these years later, if she tried, if she really focused…

Her brother was still out there, she was certain of it. He was self-condemned by his failure, and dismissed as a myth among all but the oldest members of the Resistance. Leia had long since given up on the idea that Luke would reappear and fight along side of her. His path was different now, and she had accepted it. 

But the path her son walked on—Leia squeezed her eyes shut and felt her stomach turn in knots. His rejection of the Jedi  teachings — _and of his family_ —still made her heartsick. She hadn’t seen Ben in years, but she felt his presence, like a quiet heartbeat in her consciousness reminding her that he was alive. So often, he shut her out, preferring to walk alone in darkness, but she never gave up.  _Not even after—_

A tear slipped down her cheek. After all his exploits, many illegal, foolhardy or just plain dangerous, that Han Solo had met his end by patricide was an unbearably cruel reality. Even worse, she had asked him to bring Ben back to her. Would he have risked open confrontation with the masked creature if not for her urging?

_Of course he would have, you dolt,_ Leia told herself. Han loved their son as much as she did, and his grief at Ben’s defection was as deep as her own. 

Giving up on sleep, she sat up on the bed and reached for the glass of water on the table beside it. She was about to take a sip, and then with a cry, Leia doubled over. The glass crashed to the ground and shattered. The re was a pain in her  head , a nearly unbearable stabbing,  that  made her  wan t to scream.  Impossibly, a long disregarded lesson surfaced. “ _Leia, accept_ _the pain_ _. Be calm_ ,” Luke had told her once. Against every self-preservation instinct, she slowed her racing heartbeat, and took in a deep breath. The  stabbing sensation didn’t subside, but something else held her focus. 

She stood in a n ancient forest, surrounded by mist. It was quiet,  _too quiet_ . Where was she? Branches crunched, some  faceless  creature from high above her screamed in warning. 

_Someone—_ _something--_ _was coming._

Questions unanswered, Leia ran, pushing past vines, struggling to keep her footing. A swamp was to her left. She had somewhere to be—but couldn’t place where. Instinct drove her forward. She frantically looked around. There was fear, pain— _Leia fought to stay with the vision_ —and then she saw _him_. Ben was lying unconscious on the ground,  unmasked, his clothing scorched and torn. His hands dripped with blood. Leia dropped to her knees at his side, but her form was like vapor. She tried to move closer, but her legs moved like they had weights on them. She couldn’t touch him, couldn’t hold him. She choked back a sob and looked behind her. They were still in danger. What could she do?

Ben wasn’t alone. The vision wavered as Leia struggled to focus. A wisp of white moved in the darkness. The image sharpened.  She knew that face—the girl from Jakku.  _Rey_ . Leia didn’t need a proclivity in the force to know that Rey wanted nothing to do with the First Order  enforcer that lay helplessly before her. But he would surely die without her aid. 

A mother’s instinct took over. “ _ Rey, help him before it's too late,”  _ Leia urged. Whether Rey could hear her words or not, she didn’t know. Leia was ripped from the vision, and when she came back to her senses, she was on her hands and knees on the floor in her quarters, gasping. Slowly, the pain in her head dissipated. 

“General! General! Are you all right?”

Her mind still cloudy, Leia nodded and allowed the guard to help  her to her feet. He was young; a shock of black hair peeking out from underneath his helmet. His post outside her door was likely his first assignment. She frowned. He was too young to be fighting in a war like this. 

“I heard you cry out—” he said, brown eyes large as he took in her bewildered appearance. In another breath, she straightened, pulling on her dignitary status like a glove.

“Thank you, I’m fine now.”

“But your hands—”

She looked down. Glass shards from her fallen glass were embedded in the skin. Maroon droplets fell to the floor. 

“I’ll go to the medic myself. Thank you.” 

The guard did as he was commanded, but not without another troubled glance at the General as she left. 

 

{}{}{}{}{}

 

Darkness. The weight of it was so complete and profound that Kylo wondered if this was what death was like. He sat cross legged on a glass-smooth obsidian surface, hands resting easily on his knees. 

This place was calm. Lacking the mask, he breathed easily. He didn't need intimidation. He was without threat, without pain, and without obligation. He simply...was. 

Somewhere far away, he felt the presence of the girl. She swore and kicked and splashed and pulled and fought. A whisper of a smile formed on his lips.  _She was strong_ . A scavenger from nowhere with the power to change everything. But in the stillness, he could feel the edges of her raw emotions. There was fear, loneliness, anger. And the thread that connected all of it— _hope_ . The spirit of a fighter. But the girl was uncontrolled, and without control, she would never reach her potential. As a potter molds clay into beauty beneath his fingers, Kylo knew he could give her the guidance she so desperately sought. 

But first, he had to rest. Even in this quiet place, his body was scarred, torn and abused. He hadn't had the time to properly heal after the girl had arrived on the  _Finalizer_ . So now, removed from the watchful gaze of Snoke and the snarl of Hux, he would wait. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you are enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it. Shoot me any questions! Thanks!


	9. The Journey

It had been four agonizing days since Leia’s strange vision, and the second unnerving force occurrence recently. She hardly knew what to make of it. Surely, at her age, she was not becoming more attuned to the force, especially with so little training? Unfortunately, Leia didn’t even have another known force user within the Resistance to confide in—she was on her own. 

After a pitiful  excuse to the medic that her hands were cut only due to clumsiness, Leia  had been released to her normal duties, albeit her hands were neatly bandaged. 

“What are your thoughts on the target, General Organa?”

Leia snapped back to attention. Seated around a makeshift conference table, a room full of Resistance leaders watched her closely. 

“I’m sorry, can you repeat that?”

The commander’s brow arched a fraction. “You r opinion on the proposed target, General?”

“I—”

Honestly, she hadn’t heard a word anyone had spoken in the last hour. Back and forth they argued, debating weaknesses, arguing logistics—she raised a hand to her forehead—her head was beginning to throb  again .

“I believe I need to rest in my quarters for a short time. I will notify you of my decision.” 

She exited before anyone could comment further.  Once she was alone in her quarters, Leia pulled out her elaborate braids and let her graying hair fall behind her shoulders. It provide d some relief for her aching head, but not much. 

She wanted to believe that the vision she had witnessed was real, but she had no proof other than intuition. The warning to abandon their last base neatly coincided with intelligence from their spy network. It supported her orders. But this vision was much too personal, and so ambiguous she didn’t know what to make of it. Was she simply projecting her concern for her son—or just becoming delusional  from age and loss ? 

Her holopad chimed with an update. Slowly, Leia moved to the screen and scanned through the content. Most w ere mundane status updates given to all the high ranking officials of the Resistance,  which she gave cursory attention  until she read—

 

ALL CHARGES POSITIVE FOR DETONATION ON BASE 2786 RESULTING IN CAVERN COLLAPSE. HEAVY FIRST ORDER LOSSES. 

 

Her elation was short-lived before she scanned the next part. 

 

UNCONFIRMED—KYLO REN MISSING. LAST KNOWN LOCATION BASE 2786.

 

Leia gasped, her fist balling up.  _No! It couldn’t be._ He was still alive. She would  have  known it otherwise. But in  her vision, he was so badly hurt…

_Leia, enough,_ she  commanded herself. The Resistance General  inhaled deeply . She could fall into a spiral of self-doubt and misery, or she could do her job. Finn’s strategy against the First Order had worked. He deserved to know. 

She swept her hair back up in a simple chignon—more difficult to do with bandaged hands—but with every breath, she descended into a tranquil place in her mind. She was a leader, and no matter what, she would act like one. 

 

{}{}{}{}{}

 

If nothing else, Rey was very good at keeping busy. It was a well-ingrained habit from her long years on Jakku, productive at survival and keeping nagging emotions at bay. True, this world was vastly different that the one she knew. Everything was rich shades of green and brown and gray rather than scorching white sand. It rained almost daily and often into the night. Strange noises emanated from high in the trees, and unknown creatures moved under the waters of the swamp. Rey could feel the life-force of planet pulsing around her, and somehow, it eased the apprehension of being marooned. 

After removing the shrapnel from Kylo Ren, she had done her best to wash the blood from her own head wound. It was surely the cause of her fragmented memory. Rey remembered moving through the abandoned Resistance base, but her next recollection was waking up in the airspeeder. Something terrible happened in-between, but she was almost relieved not to know it. The remaining headaches became her only testament to the unknown. 

When the pain ebbed, Rey made quick work of utilizing the numerous vines, branches and the leafy foliage into something that resembled a shelter. It had rained again only hours after the first deluge, and she made improvements to her lean-to accordingly until it was water tight. She created a collection basin for the rain water, and dutifully tipped tiny amounts of it into the mouth of Kylo Ren. Whether it would sustain him, she didn’t know, but it kept her conscience clear. Even so, Rey kept her makeshift melee staff nearby at all times, unwilling to lose her guard. 

Food was a much more difficult problem to solve, and she scowled every time her stomach rumbled in protest. Her attempts to hunt were futile; every spear she had whittled had been lost in the swamp, her intended target lost into the murky darkness. By her fourth day of hunger, Rey resolved to sample bits of the moss from the trees and found it wasn't as altogether terrible as she expected. 

After a long day, the mist rolled in so thick she could barely see Kylo Ren lying a few feet away from her. She chewed the moss slowly, trying to think of anything but the gritty texture between her teeth. Her hands were dirty, and she expected her face and hair were worse, but she was alive, and for the time being, free from the clutches of the First Order. 

With one last painful swallow, Rey wiped her hands off on her pants, the thin filthy fabric now a shade of gray, and leaned back on her hands. In the dark, she listened, her gaze trained to the small fire encircled in stones. Lacking a photon ignitor, she had to rely on a friction trick she had once witnessed in the Niima market by an Ismali trader. It had seemed like magic then, and even as she basked in the warmth of the fire now, it was no less wonderful. 

It was in these moments, kept company only by the crackle of the flames and the sounds of the swamp, that she missed the pleasant chirp of BB-8, and the playful energy of Finn. She could almost picture them, so far away from her. Finn was more serious now, his smile less frequent but just as bright. He was proving an invaluable tactician, and was never far from General Organa's side. BB-8 whirled and chirped at the heels of the pilot Poe Dameron or even Chewbacca. The droid was often taken on missions, and would return with another blaster scorch, but no worse for wear. BB-8 asked about Rey, and she would smile. She wasn't forgotten! But like it or not, the business of the Resistance carried on with or without her, and so did her friends.  It was at this thought that her fantasizing ended. 

With a shiver, the young woman inched closer to the fire, her vision disappearing like smoke that trailed upwards before her. She glazed warily at her fateful companion. Rey had draped Kylo’s cloak over his body, leaving only his head and neck exposed. His eyes were shut, and he lay impossibly still. There was not a single movement of his hand, flex of the jaw, nothing. Even the rain hitting his skin hadn’t woken him. If not for the minute rise and fall of his chest, she would have thought him dead, and worse, that his current state was far from natural. 

Rey added another stick to the fire. Kylo made the space feel smaller, as if he was drawing in the energy around him like a black hole. What part of the force was he tapping into? How long would he be like this? His survival currently hinged on her, and she was ever dubious about that with each passing day. It vexed her to feel so ignorant.  _Stop, just stop_ , she argued with herself. Kylo wasn't worth her contemplation, and yet, without effort, he had it. 

Lacking the mask and his trademark snarl, his features were less harsh, though the scars remained. Certainly, Rey surmised, his nose had been broken more than once, perhaps even his jaw, and the pale skin held a dozen more scars—some visible, others barely so—which spoke of a hard existence. But in sleep, the cut of his cheekbone, the heavy dark eyelashes, and the black hair that curled over his brow imparted a youthfulness otherwise suppressed under the weight of his chosen guise. 

Rey kicked at the dirt on the ground and tried to shake the thought.  _Kylo Ren is a monster_ , she reminded herself, and left it at that. 

{}{}{}{}{}

 

_**Go.** _

Heart pounding, Rey opened her eyes to darkness. That urging in her mind, the lingering presence that was just beyond her grasp...it called to her. She rose to her feet in a fluid motion and grabbed her staff. Without a glance back, she headed into the thick trees, climbing over misshapen, gnarled roots thicker than her body. Rey missed the warmth of Jakku's sun as she splashed through countless shallow pools of water. Mud formed a heavy layer on her legs and hands. Still, she pressed onward, instinct guiding her forward on her path. 

Unusual for the time of day, mist rolled in so thick that Rey could taste the damp air around her. Breathing hard, she stopped and looked around. There was nothing. Nothing but trees and mud and the never-ending swamp. 

“What am I doing here?” she muttered, her brows knit as she hit the staff on the ground. This place was insufferable! Was it not enough that she was stranded with one of the most evil creatures in the galaxy, but that she was on an otherworldly planet intent on her torment? 

The whispers were still there, deep in her mind, telling her to quiet the doubt. Slowly, Rey turned, and then she saw it. 

Nature had almost reclaimed the structure, but it was just visible amid the massive tree roots. Rey approached slowly, with a reverence she didn't understand. The dwelling looked humble enough, and had been abandoned for some time. The dome-like mud walls were almost caved in on the outside, but she could still manage to kneel and enter th r ough a break in the root structure. The earthen ceiling was only a few feet high, so she crawled until she reached the main room, which was small enough she could barely lay down in it. There were a few wooden bowls scattered about, half buried in the dirt and covered with moss, but nothing of interest and no sign of a living inhabitant. Rey frowned as frustration prickled at her thoughts. Was this just another dead end? 

Just then, she noticed a small decaying basket fashioned from branches in the corner. On first glance, it held nothing but mildewed rags, but as Rey  moved them aside, her fingers brushed against metal. The sounds of the world disappeared as she grasped it and palmed the cool weight in her hand. 

_It was a lightsaber!_

Rey didn't dare ignite the weapon within the tight quarters of the primitive dwelling for fear of causing its collapse on her head. She crawled back out and stood in the open area where she could really look at it. The handle was surprisingly well preserved for such a damp environment; there were only a few places where oxidation had destroyed the chrome finish. With a flick of her thumb, the lightsaber blade appeared with a familiar hum, casting a brilliant emerald green glow around her. 

_And then it promptly fizzled out_ . Rey almost laughed. It had been more that she could have hoped for to find a working lightsaber, especially left to these humid conditions, but she was eager for something to fix. 

Rey lost all sense of time. She sat cross-legged before small fire she built in the hearth of the hut. She turned the lightsaber over in her hands, memorizing the feel of it. The hilt would take cleaning, and she had none of the proper tools, but with careful prying, she was able to get the small side panel off. Rey had never seen the inside of a lightsaber before, but she inferred enough of their operation from her experience wading through innards of countless scrapped parts. 

Rey was thankful this lightsaber didn't bombard her with any of the unpleasant visions that Luke Skywalker's did. It was just a beautiful, efficient tool in her hands. The technology inside of it was old, centuries older than that which she had pulled apart in the Imperial Destroyer. She worked late into the night, determined to see the Jedi weapon work again.  H er neck and back were stiff from the hours of hunched posture, and her fingers were raw from the work. After nearly losing the kyber crystal into the fire, she reluctantly put the lightsaber back where she found it. 

“I’ll come back,” she promised, smiling, and left the dwelling. 

 

{}{}{}{}{}

 

It was dark by the time Rey returned. Kylo Ren was as she left him. She went to work rebuilding the fire, then  consumed  a meal of moss and a nauseatingly bitter leaf. Lying down by the fire, she was asleep almost instantly. 

Limbs heavy, when she opened her eyes to darkness, Rey knew instantly she was no longer on the planet. She stood  on  a smooth, dark surface, like polished glass. It stretched into every direction, far into the horizon. Somehow, it didn't bother her, this endlessness. This place was neither hot or cold, and a sigh of relief, she found herself once again in her familiar scavenger attire.  _This isn’t real_ , she told herself, with a twinge of regret. 

In an instant, the darkness wavered and transformed. She was in a place where the suns shone so bright she had to wince. Like a mirage, she spotted Han Solo up ahead, younger than she remembered him, leaning against the hull of the  _Millennium Falcon_ . He mouthed something to her and grinned, his thumb jerking back at the ship. Rey smiled—she was about to shout something back when a young dark-haired boy ran past her. He disappeared up the landing ramp into the ship, Han Solo trailing behind him.

The excitement in the air was tangible. Rey wanted desperately to follow them, but the scene shifted, leaving her disoriented. She was in a different place now, also foreign. The stone walls were impossibly high, built by a long lost race.  _It was a temple._ At the massive gated doorway, General Organa paused, her hair twisted elegantly on her head. She embraced a small cloaked figure like she never wanted to let go. Her tears were pressed into the rough fabric of the brown hood. When she released him, her somber, practiced guise was on once more. She said something, but Rey couldn't understand. 

This time, Rey felt the sorrow, thick and heavy swirling around the figures. Both parent and child were burdened by the crushing weight of obligation and loss. 

Again the scene degraded and vanished like smoke, only to be replaced with someone who Rey had never met but instantly knew— _Luke Skywalker_ . The Jedi Master was stalking a circle around his charge, who was doing a meditation handstand. There was no affection visible in his grim survey of the exercise. He pressed his nephew hard, demanding more. The boy, barely into his teens, obeyed, sweat running down his back and face, into the soft black curls of his hair. The stone floor underneath them rumbled. Pebbles rose around the boy's hands, held aloft by a magnificent show of the force. Rey saw the emotion that flickered across Luke's bearded face. _Fear..._

_He was afraid of his nephew._

The exercise finished immediately with a curt command as the Jedi Master stormed off, leaving his exhausted student sitting alone on the stone floor. 

_**He left you, abandoned you. I...did not** _ _,_ came a horrible whisper in the distance. Rey shivered at the voice, and the scene started to vibrate and shift again while she was  a  helpless passenger to be thrown into the next vision. 

The images regained focus on something altogether more dire. A dark throne room. Figures cloaked in shadows, wielding weapons she had never seen before. Coming closer. Attacking. Always attacking. She felt the sting when the blades hit flesh, and the agony of reprisal. Was it her pain? Someone else’s? She couldn’t tell the difference anymore.

The throne room disappeared, and she knelt in a storm. It was so cold. Lightning crackled all around her and there was laughter so deep, so twisted, that Rey felt like the chill would never leave her. 

_**Rise, my apprentice...** _ Rey screamed and jolted awake, once again surrounded by the familiar swamp. Her fingers dug into the reassuring damp earth, and her breath came in gasps. Shame and revolution flooded through her, and despite the coolness of the morning, she was coated in sweat. Those were no ordinary visions.  _Those were memories_ — _Kylo Ren’s memories._ Unbidden, she had become a trespasser into the one mind she had never wanted to experience again. 

Rey sat up, and slowly turned her gaze to him. At long last, the Knight of Ren's eyelids fluttered open. 

He didn't look at her, but Rey could sense the building darkness around him. 

“ _What did you see?_ ” he growled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...the dream/vision parts of this chapter were written long before TLJ came out, but I was nearly giddy when I saw that my vision of the strained relationship between student Ben and Luke is pretty much canon. Like it or not, Luke was a bit of a brat in the original trilogy, and I felt he had neither the maturity or the accrued wisdom to teach, especially not someone as potentially powerful as himself. This idea will continue to influence future events in this story. 
> 
> Tell me your thoughts! xx


	10. Good News, Bad News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux fumes and plots.

**Onboard the** _**Finalizer** _

 

“Where the hell is he!?” General Hux raged, glaring at the chrome stormtrooper. He paced along the long series of observation windows in the empty strategy room, allowing for an impressively panoramic view of the Denkur system, though he didn’t give it so much as a glance. Captain Phasma bit back a sigh and maintained her rigid posture, arms behind her back. The debriefing had taken far too much time already. The med droids had only just released her before Hux demanded an audience.

“Kylo Ren’s body was not recovered, sir,” she repeated, citing the latest report.

“But you think he survived?” Hux pressed, eyes narrowed. His auburn hair fell over his brow, now beaded with sweat.

“Undetermined for now, Sir. The the body of stormtrooper FN-1985 was also not recovered, save for the helmet.”

“They both could have been destroyed. Some forty percent of your stormtroopers were killed or seriously maimed.”

“Yes, Sir.” The captain was being agreeable only. She felt the verbal slap. The undetected Resistance detonators in the abandoned base were an embarrassing failure for herself and her troops, and the resulting explosions had cost them dearly. Hux was enjoying tightening the proverbial noose around her neck, and she loathed him for it.

She knew more than she let on, of course. The Knight of Ren’s moods were erratic and he was an arrogant commander to follow, but he was independent, capable in the field and he had tried to warn her troops against returning fire. In return, Phasma opted not to report the trail of blood splatters she found leading away from where Kylo had last been seen in the cavern. Let Hux sweat—or celebrate— in ignorance over the loss of his rival.

“There was a vessel that escaped the base,” the general noted, his tone less accusatory.

“Yes, the modified Rebel B-Class airspeeder. All intelligence indicates that it self-destructed after jumping to lightspeed.”

“I see.”

The general pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. How was he to approach the Supreme Leader with this defeat? And dead or alive, the force-sensitive girl had eluded them _again_. With a disparaging wave of his hand, he dismissed Phasma.

Hux approached the window and stared out into space. There was constant activity around a massive ship like the _Finalizer_ ; supply freighters scuttling back and forth along prearranged trade routes, TIEs arriving from hourly patrols, and dozens of smaller vessels laden with stormtroopers on route to quell minor uprisings. At the moment, Hux noticed none of it.

 _That damn Jakku brat_ , he thought, fury surging through his veins. When he closed his eyes, he still remembered her wan, lithe figure, the softness of her cheek as he brushed it, and the fire that blazed in her eyes when she caught him. She had claws, he recalled with a rush of pleasure. It made her stand out in a bleak world where his authority was met with downcast gazes and complete submission. This scavenger never cared about the trappings of his elite position. Power didn't intimidate her. This was oddly comforting.

Kylo Ren had done an abysmal job hiding his personal fascination with the scavenger— _the_ _k_ _night really was far more transparent than the Supreme Leader gave him credit_ , Hux surmised with a frown—and he was only too willing to take away Ren's plaything. Too often, Ren had stolen the glory on battlefields with spectacular displays of the force while Hux's own expertly contrived battle plans and armies did the real dirty work and got a fraction of the credit. Hux's gloved hands clenched at his side as he thought about the injustice of it all.

Hux took a calming breath. He was a busy man. The Supreme Leader required a strong military arm, and he had to provide that with unflinching efficiency and ruthlessness. Why then, did the force-sensitive girl creep into his thoughts so easily? The First Order had scores of prisoners. Most never deserved a second glance, serving their purpose as target practice for stormtroopers or providing the scant bits of intel that he read each morning over tea. They were insignificant. This Jakku girl should have been as well, but like a filthy pest, she had managed to mysteriously recover from devastating injuries, avoid detection and escape their vessel. Through her continued survival, she would wreck havoc on the First Order until she perished under the heel of his boot. _His._ Not Ren. Not the Supreme Leader.

The irony of her potential demise at the hands of her precious Resistance was not beyond him. Even so, Hux had a nagging suspicion that Kylo Ren was alive, but where... _and how_ , wasn’t clear yet. Everything in his gut told him that where he found the Knight of Ren, he would find the girl.

The General went to his quarters and sat before his personal command console. While it was used largely for cycling through various planetary communications and status reports, his rank allowed his virtually unrestricted access to any program within the ship's computer. Utilizing the type-pad, he accessed a top clearance program, created for him at his request some time before. After giving his personal identification, a file opened, revealing a command toggle, which in Basic read:

 

**\- SEND LOCATING PULSE -**

 

His long gloved fingers hovered over the toggle switch for a second before he pushed it and watched the resulting bar loading on the screen, signaling the progress. Hux had never before had cause to activate the clandestine program, as it would inflame undesirable tensions. But in desperate times, he found no qualm in justifying its use, and he was certain that when notified, the Supreme Leader would agree.

The carmine shaded graphics on the screen reflected back in Hux's eyes, giving his gaze a sinister blood-red glow.

_He would find them._

 

{}{}{}{}{}

 

**Resistance Base, CYTI-32**

 

Seated alone in a corner on a few overturn bins, Finn was licking the last of his lunch off his fingers with General Organa approached, a thin-lipped smile on her face.

“Oh! General!” He wiped the last of the crumbs on his pants and stood at attention, but she beckoned him to sit back down.

“As you were,” she said kindly. “Quiet moments are hard to come by. I'm sorry to interrupt yours, but I wanted to give you the news myself.”

Finn nodded, and the Resistance General sat beside him, her voice lowered a degree. “We have received word from a contact in the same sector as our last base. The First Order could not pass up the bait. The charges that we planted were successful. Our contact reports significant loses for the landing troops of the First Order.”

Finn barely suppressed a whoop but still managed to pump the air with his fist, drawing the confused stares of a few Resistance members walking past.

“See,” he said, leaning intimately forward, unmindful of the breach in etiquette, “this is what we have to do! The First Order is too wealthy and powerful for us to keep attacking them directly. The Resistance could never sustain those type of conflicts and losses long term.”

“I know,” Leia said, cutting him off. She had known this for a long time, and so had the other Resistance commanders, whether they admitted to it or not. But it was a different thing to see it in practice. She would not mention the other part of the message from the contact; it was too muddied in hearsay to hold any weight yet. But if it were true... _she really was all alone now._

She blinked and stood up abruptly, forcing those thoughts aside. “The commanders and I agree,” Leia began, her painted smile on once more, “that for your bravery, loyalty, and strategic thinking on the behalf of the Resistance, you will be given the rank of Lieutenant.” She cocked her head at his dumbfounded expression. “If you would like it,” she added.

Finn's open mouth transformed into a wide grin. “Yes....yes, I accept!”

Leia patted his shoulder and gave him one last parting smile. “Good. We expect you in two hours for our next meeting.” She began to walk away.

“Of course,” Finn agreed, still in a daze. “What’s the meeting about?” he couldn't help but adding.

General Organa looked back at him over her shoulder. “To figure out what we're going to do next.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor characters again, I know, but the plot moves forward. And creepy Hux is such a delight to write. :)
> 
> Kudos and comments always appreciated! xx


	11. The Choice

_At long last, the Knight of Ren's eyelids fluttered open._ _He didn't look at her, but Rey could sense the building darkness around him._

 _“_ __What did you see?_ _ _” he growled._

 

Rage, black and powerful, struck Rey so hard she stumbled back. She had no excuse. She had been the intruder. It was different than the first time, when she had been witness to Kylo Ren's surface thoughts, and able to catapult his insecurity and misplaced admiration of Darth Vader right back at him. It had felt good to see the look of shock on his face then. It was one of the few times that the inviolable and savage Kylo Ren had been proven vulnerable.

But _this_ was nothing like the former moment of victory. Rey felt disgusted. She had been an unwelcome witness to Kylo’s innermost memories, the ones locked away in the deepest of places. These thoughts proved that somehow, there was a flicker of his former humanity still kept safe from the talons of Snoke and the dark side. It was easy to despise the First Order villain who killed and pillaged with impunity. But she witnessed the memories of a boy who had loved, who was frightened and so alone…

_Just like her._

Rey swallowed the foul bile that rose in her throat. “ _Nothing_ ,” she lied, her voice was barely above a whisper. “Just darkness.”

Kylo's gaze turned sharply on her, but he was silent. His jaw clenched, he forced himself into a kneeling position, breathing hard. She could see his limbs quivering.

Rey stood and gripped her melee staff tightly. Squaring her shoulders, she glared at him. “Don't. Move,” she ordered.

Defying her, the dark knight rose into a shaky stance, his cloak that had served as a blanket slipping off and pooling at his boots. He didn’t appear to take notice. Pale and scarred, his bare chest rose and fell with quick breaths. Rey refused to back away despite the choler that radiated from him. His hands clenched at his sides.

“ _You_ do not give me orders, _scavenger_ ,” his said, his voice hoarse from disuse. Like mountain ranges colliding, Rey could sense the warring conflict in the energy between them. It was beyond chaotic—it was hungry, ready to consume.

 _**Trust** _ , whispered the frustrating voice in her mind. _How can I?_ Rey wanted to retort. Before her was a man she despised with every fiber of her being. She had half expected him to perish from the crash, his wounds, or from the bizarre comatose state he was trapped in. She had possessed no desire to navigate the treacherous waters of being marooned with a lethal enemy who was very much alive and awake, but that was the cruel reality fate granted. _You’ve handled the villainy of Unkar Plutt and dozens of scum creatures before,_ Rey coached herself. Her past experience had shown that Kylo Ren, as vicious as he was, had showed more restraint than them.

With a silent prayer, she lowered her staff, and in that instant, she saw a young man before her, wounded and tired rather than a feared Knight of Ren or a figurehead and commander of the First Order.

Kylo noticed the shift in energy between them too, though he remained tense. _Trust no one_ , he recalled from his dark training. Especially not the scavenger. A quick glance at her person and his surroundings informed him that his lightsaber and his helmet were missing, a loss he felt keenly. _What had happened after he lost consciousness?_

After a moment, he inquired, “How long?”

Rey’s tone was flat. “Five days.”

 _There_ , she saw it. The brief widening of his eyes so quick that it almost didn’t register. Kylo Ren _was_ alarmed. Had he expected the First Order by now? The vessel that brought them here was beyond repair even if it could be retrieved from its watery grave. If there was an escape from this primitive world, she hadn’t found it yet.

“And the ship?”

Rey frowned. “In pieces at the bottom of the swamp. We crashed, no thanks to your lack of piloting.”

It was a petty barb, but it felt good to vent her frustration. The moment was short-lived when she saw shock and disappointment register across his face.

He took a step and she flinched, raising her staff defensively out of instinctual self-preservation.

The scavenger's show of force diminished what little patience he had left. In the next instant, Kylo summoned the staff into his hand, and without ceremony, he snapped it in two pieces and threw both into the fire.

“ _Let us make one thing clear_ ,” he began, his gaze murderous, “I could have struck you down the second I woke.”

Rey snorted. “Don't threaten me. You're weak—I can see you shaking.”

She regretted the goad as soon as it left her lips. A sharp pain emanated in her head, growing worse by the second. Rey's hands balled into fists as she fought to stay on her feet.

“ _I could have left you to drown in that miserable swamp_ ,” she countered between clenched teeth, “or let you bleed out from your injuries! I didn't!”

Much to her surprise, the pain stopped. Resigned, Kylo collapsed back down to his knees. Damp strands of black hair hung around his face. “More the pity for us both,” he said.

Unbidden, the compassionate part of Rey resurfaced. She grabbed a piece of bark serving as a plate with moss already collected on it and dumped his dry tunic at his feet. Both had been kept in the relative protection of her lean-to.

“It tastes terrible,” she warned, but he took the offering anyway. Rey had to give Kylo Ren credit—he only grimaced once or twice before finishing. Only then did he place the bark aside and shrug on his tunic, his left arm clearly stiff from its proximity to his healing shrapnel wound. He was ignoring her entirely, and Rey forced her gaze back on the fire.

The tension was still thick between them, when at last, Rey spoke. “There were no working panels or instrumentation on my side of the airspeeder. Where are we?”

It could have been her imagination, but she thought she heard Kylo sigh before quietly answering.

“Dagobah.”

 

{}{}{}{}{}

 

Kylo Ren had never been on Dagobah before, though he had heard the stories, made better in the retelling by R2D2's animated beeps. The nexus of force energy on this planet acted as a cloak, which is why Darth Vader was never able to find and eliminate Master Yoda. If only through the force, they were hidden from the prying gaze of Snoke and the First Order...at least for now.

But in the meantime, their presence on Dagobah would also amplify force sensitivity. Not unlike their last battle on the dying Starkiller base, the scavenger was standing on the edge of a precipice. He could feel her conflict, as raw and potent as his own. She would rage and fall apart, or she would make something of herself.

The fire was just embers now, but Kylo did nothing to stoke it. Instead, he watched the dying embers, and waited. A cool, heavy mist surrounded them.

The girl stirred. Kylo tensed, and then forced himself to relax again. It would not do to look intimidated by her presence. All the time, he felt her proximity in the force here, brushing against his. It was distracting.

“Did you rest?” he asked simply, rising to his feet. He wasn't actually concerned for her well-being, only her present ability.

She threw a hand over her eyes. “Not really.” Her stomach was in knots from hunger.

“Get up.”

“Why?”

“Because if you want to survive, you need to be trained. Get up.”

Rey sat up languidly, her impertinence clawing at her companion. “I have no desire to know the ways of the dark side,” she told him, her tone cold.

“You forget,” Kylo Ren countered, “I was trained as a Jedi first. I still know their ways.” What he was suggesting was tantamount to treason, and yet he knew there was no other way to bypass her prejudice.

“But you follow the Supreme Leader,” Rey argued.

“I follow the true power in the galaxy. You can follow whatever— _or whomever_ —you wish. My desire is to stop your floundering.”

Her eyebrows rose. “I was doing just fine on my own.”

“Really?” he snorted. “When you call upon the force, it doesn't respond to your beckon instantaneously, does it?”

Rey stiffened reflexively. Kylo smirked.

“All too often,” he continued, watching for her other tells, “you are stunned by the intensity of your summons, or unaware that you reached out for aid to begin with. You don't even know what you are channeling. Darkness? Light?”

Her silence was proof enough.

Kylo crossed his arms and glared at her. “Set aside your pride. Skywalker isn't here to teach you. _I can_.”

Rey was silent for a long time. Kylo tapped into her weakness and he knew it. The desire to control the strange phenomena she was caught up in, to use it for good, to find purpose—all this required knowledge. Without Skywalker, she had no one to turn to for real answers.

Even so, she didn't trust the Knight of Ren's professed altruism, although he didn't need to know that. _Just as certain as he was trying to use her, she would use him._

“When do we begin?” She raised her chin, her gaze hard.

Surprise registered on his face, quickly vanishing into his usual stern expression. Kylo Ren raised a finger and tapped against his head.

Rey instantly took his meaning and frowned. “I don't want to go through that again.”

Kylo sighed. “Perhaps you don't understand what is at stake. The Supreme Leader is exceptionally gifted at using his mind to break others. What you experienced with my surface perusal is nothing compared to what he is capable of.”

“I hardly care what he is good at! As the First Order has so often reminded me, I’m nothing but a worthless scavenger.”

“That may be true, but he knows about you. _He will find you_.”

_“So you're protecting me—”_

Rey couldn't even finish her sentence before she felt his abrupt invasion into her mind.

“Block me,” Kylo commanded quietly, increasing the pressure.

The pain sharpened along the front of her head, growing with every passing second. Rey lashed out with the force, as she had done before when she stumbled upon his thoughts, only this time, she was pushed back into her own mind.

“Block. Me.”

“I don't know how!” She felt her frustration spiraling out of control, the fear that he was once again delving into her private thoughts, _and_ s _he detested him for it._ “Get out!” she shouted, raising her hand towards him. Like a tidal wave, she felt the force respond. Kylo staggered backwards from its ferocity, and her mind was once again free from his assault. Rey saw him wipe away blood that dripped from his nose.

“I'm sorry,” she murmured, terrified at how natural it felt to unleash at him.

The Knight of Ren straightened and looked at her with his piercing dark eyes. “ _Never_ apologize,” he said.

 

{}{}{}{}{}

 

It was night. They were seated across from each other, the flames of the small fire between them. Rey looked at her hands.

“I hurt you today,” she said, her voice soft.

Kylo didn't move. There was no point in denying it. “It matters little. You learned.”

“It _does_ matter. I don't want to command the force if it will bring pain.”

“The force is responsive to emotions. Don't be afraid to feel. It will make you stronger.”

Rey bit her lip, an action that Kylo watched closely before tearing his gaze back to the fire.

“What did Master Skywalker say about that?” she asked, noting how her companion tensed at the name. But, much to her surprise, Kylo gave an elegant shrug of his shoulders. “He would say 'feel nothing.'”

“Then—”

“He was a fool and a hypocrite,” Kylo spat, his mood blackening. “Blinded by arrogance, and with only minimal knowledge, Skywalker took it upon himself to train others with the same useless, torturous exercises he barely understood. He told us not to feel, and all the while, he was terrified.”

Rey regretted asking him at all—mentioning Skywalker aggravated a deep wound in her companion. And yet, she was so curious as to what happened to cause the break between the Jedi Master and his protégé.

“I doubt you were an ideal student.”

Instead of being met with anger, the corner of Kylo's mouth quirked upwards. “I wasn't. But he was hardly an ideal teacher.”

“The Supreme Leader is?”

 _No, scavenger, he is not,_ Kylo thought. _Snoke rejoices in pain and is skilled in using it. He is wise, ancient and willing to share his knowledge if it will aid his ambition. And he wants you even more than he wanted me._

“Rest,” he answered, refusing to look at her. “Tomorrow will be worse for you.”

 

{}{}{}{}{}

 

The scavenger's training progressed slower than Kylo Ren had expected. She was a quick study in many aspects; with little effort, she achieved levitation of small objects, manipulating elements to some degree, and when guided, meditation. But judging by her spontaneous moments of piercing his own mental defenses, he knew she possessed great affinity for the force and with practice, might surpass even his own.

Her weakness was her empathy. She refused to consciously incite the pain associated with a mental force intrusion. The more he pushed, the more she receded, often abandoning their training sessions altogether in a fit of anger. Whether due to frustration or the need for solitude, Rey disappeared into the dark forest of Dagobah only to return hours— _sometimes days_ —later.

Despite his increasing vexation, Kylo didn’t outwardly question the scavenger’s disappearances, as she often returned with a greater focus. As for himself, he used the time to meditate. He never reached out far, just enough to brush her awareness before a tactful retreat. He was a far more generous teacher than she gave him credit—neither Skywalker or Snoke had shown him such breadth during training. Exhaustion as a means of subjugation was a brutally effective method.

Rey needed a patient guide, although like the headstrong brat she could be, she stretched his limited composure to its breaking point.

The Knight of Ren straightened his posture and closed his eyes, his hands resting on his knees. Still, his thoughts churned. Nothing could suppress the simple truth that _they were going to die here_. Being marooned was never his intention, and to make matters worse, the edible nutritional content of the planet lacked, having a wealth of poisonous creatures and undrinkable swamp water. The scavenger was always lean from her former active life on Jakku, but now her cheeks were even more sunken in, her dark eyes bigger. Her clothing was the standard white First Order issued prisoner garb, as frayed and haggard as his own black attire, and hung oddly from her bony shoulders. They had both made rudimentary attempts at cleanliness, but it was a moot effort amid such archaic living conditions. Dirt was caked under their nails, scratches marred their skin from thorned vegetation, causing further dried blood stains and rips throughout their clothing. Kylo’s hair, always kept on the longer side, now easily brushed his shoulders and hung in tangles. It was shameful.

Had they crashed in a First Order vessel, a homing beacon would have long since been activated and they would have been recovered weeks ago. Instead, forgotten and hidden on this strange uninhabited planet, rescue was a fantasy he preferred not to indulge in. His split second decision to come here was not an unwise one. For now, the scavenger was safe from Snoke’s clutches, allowed to strengthen her force abilities in anonymity. But this slow demise was a pitiful end for them both.

Kylo exhaled, uneasy. This place clawed at his senses in a way that he couldn't suppress, as much as he tried. Dagobah was saturated in memory, and even as they trained, there were moments when he was certain he saw two ethereal figures watching from the trees, silent and disapproving.

The Knight of Ren was closer to Skywalker now than he had been since his own training days, but it did not bring the relish of pursuit or the sense of clarity that he anticipated. The Jedi Master was still just a specter, looming beyond his grasp. But Skywalker was hardly the prize anymore. True, to destroy him would be to end a direct line millenniums old, an objective not even the most powerful Sith Lords had achieved. But while Skywalker hid and licked his wounds, he was either unaware or simply apathetic that there was a more powerful force user alive, one that could shift the balance of power once and for all in the First Order’s favor. She was fragile and fierce and—

Thunder cracked overhead, warning him of the oncoming rain. Kylo’s eyelids snapped open. The scavenger was approaching.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't even begin to say how stressful it was to try and write a plausible way for Rey to say yes to Kylo training her. I hope I struck an acceptable tone. xx


	12. The Request

**Resistance Base, CYTI-32**

 

The engines were primed, and the resulting vibrations caused bits of dust and paint chips to fall from the ship onto the ground. Leia looked up at the scrap heap of a freighter, and thought she had never seen anything more noble. To any onlooker, her presence spoke of the resilience and leadership needed for the rebel band to endure, but at this moment, her mouth was set in a grim line. Lost in memory, she thought about the many adventures she had seen aboard this old bucket of bolts. How did she become too old and too valuable to go on them anymore (or so she was gently told)? Confronted with objects that held so much meaning and history, Leia didn’t know how she managed to suppress an emotional response.  _I may have been a better Jedi than I previously gave myself credit_ , she thought wryly. She didn’t want to consider the familial proclivity for the alternative path. 

A welcoming growl interrupted her musings, and Chewbecca stepped down the landing ramp, his brown furry head tilted at her.

“I’m fine, Chewie. I just wanted to see you off,” she told him. He was before her in a couple of lumbering strides. Leia was never quite prepared for the bear-hugs the Wookie gave, but embraced him all the same.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” she said. Chewbecca responded in a contrary growl. 

“I know, it’s just that...with Han gone, I don’t hold you to anything. I never have.” 

He yelped and shook his head. Leia stepped back, sighing. “The Resistance is in your debt, old friend.”

The Wookie shrugged and walked back up the ramp.

“Chewie?”

He turned. 

“Please,  _be careful_ .”

Another few grunts confirmed his acknowledgment, and then the ramp when up and he disappeared into the  _Millennium Falcon_ . 

Leia stood a safe distance away as the freighter lifted up into the sky and became a small dot of light in the distance. Leia walked back slowly to her quarters, her thoughts in turmoil. The Resistance was running out of time. Supplies were scant, but even worse, with every confrontation, they were losing people—precious Resistance members who gave their life for the cause when there were so many billions of others in the universe who looked upon First Order subjugation with apathetic eyes. And she was somehow in the center of it all, hoping to be a pillar of faith and hope that in her troubled moments, even she struggled to hold onto anymore.

The reality was, the Resistance needed  _something more_ , more than an aging princess from a war long passed, or a missing Jedi Master. They needed a miracle.

Suddenly, the gnawing ache that had been building in her became clear. Leia could no longer brush aside her dream-like vision. If the Jakku girl was truly alive—if she could be found and rejoin the fight at their side—so many of the young Resistance members would have tangible hope again. That extra spark lost in Finn would reignite. But most of all, Leia recognized a wayward, orphaned soul when she met one. She wanted a chance to be that stability for Rey when she had failed to be it for her own son. It would never redeem her failings as a mother, but  is she saved another force-sensitive from being swept away by darkness, it was worth the effort. 

The general knew what she had to do, but even as she sat down at the communication console in her quarters, she had no idea how she was going to achieve it.  She would never be granted use of precious Resistance resources on a hunch, and certainly not for someone they considered well and truly dead. Chewbecca and the  _Millennium Falcon_ were gone into deep space now and wouldn’t be back for weeks. 

Leia needed help, and allies were few and far between anymore. Many had been killed, some shifted loyalties, and still others only offered friendship for a price. She thought hard on past conversations with Han, trying to recall any name he spoke in passing. One name jumped out in particular, but when she typed in the connection sequence, she had no idea what to expect.

Moments later, a small, orange-skinned humanoid appeared on screen, dwarfed by massive pair of variable lens corrective goggles.

“Maz Kanata,” Leia said, by way of introduction.

“Leia Organa.”

“I’m addressed as _General_ Organa now.” Leia inwardly winced at the correction. She was tired, and it clearly showed in her abrasive diplomatic skills.

Maz nodded, the posturing over. “I was expecting Han Solo, not you.”

“Han is dead,” Leia said simply, the words tumbling out of her. She could not bear to say how he died, and Maz had the propriety not to ask. The old smuggler blinked and looked away for a moment. She changed the lens on her goggles before looking at Leia again.

“You did not contact me to tell me this sad news,” she said, her tone grim.

Appreciating Maz’s astuteness, Leia offered her a tight smile. “Yes, you are correct. I am reaching out to you because I am...desperate.”

“ _You_ , General, with the resources of the Resistance at your disposal?”

“Thinly spread resources, and fewer still to trust with them.”

“ _I am a pirate_.”

“Han trusted you.”

Maz was silent. At length, she asked, “what do you need?”

“It could be nothing...I felt a call for help.” _And_ _I can’t answer it,_ came the unspoken part.

Leia put a hand over her mouth and looked away, dismayed by her own powerlessness. Even as she spoke the words, she felt ridiculous.

Maz cleared her throat. “You want me to find someone who may or may not be there.” It was not a question, but a statement. Taking in a breath, Leia straightened and nodded.

“Where?”

 _That was the question_. Her vision provided no definite answer; she simply had to rely on instinct. _Search your feelings_ , Luke had told her a long time ago. Leia quieted her mind, hoping the force would help her find the answer. A name surfaced, but it seemed so ridiculous she didn’t believe it could be real. Still, what else could she say? She was chasing ghosts.

“Dagobah,” Leiaanswered, sounding confident in a way she didn’t feel.

Maz’s eyes widened, becoming even larger in the goggles. “That _is_ interesting.” She shrugged. “Unfortunately, I cannot.”

Leia tried to keep her features serene, even as her heart sank. “Can you tell me why?”

“I have two rules that I have adhered to for over a thousand years. No politics. No war. Helping you is a breach of both.”

Leia raised a hand. “I’ll not argue your point. I will only say that if I am correct, there is a girl in danger. Finding her—and bringing her home—could change the course of everything.”

Maz leaned forward. “Girl? A human?”

Leia nodded. “Yes, you have met her before. She calls herself Rey.”

Maz sat back in her chair, her lips tight. After a long moment, she said, “I make no promises.” The transmission ended abruptly, and Leia stood, leaning against her desk, head bowed. She prayed she had made the right choice. She prayed that somewhere, somehow, Rey was still out there, and that she was safe... _and that Ben was too._

 

{}{}{}{}{}

 

**Dagoba** **h**

 

Having paid the traveling raconteur on Jakku with precious food portions, Rey had heard the stories of the fabled Luke Skywalker training on Dagobah from a great and powerful Jedi Master. As with all stories in the retelling, she had figured that much of what she heard was dramatized to add to weight to Skywalker’s myth, but with Kylo’s revelation that they were actually on Dagobah, Rey had no doubt she had stumbled upon the ruined home of Luke’s Jedi teacher. She treated it reverentially, even though outwardly, it appeared as nothing more than a crumbling dwelling lost to the elements. Somehow, it grounded her, providing a safe haven in the storm.

Rey came back to the ruined mud hut often. It was a risky endeavor to crawl back into the disintegrating structure, but it was quiet, mostly dry, and she felt a calmness seep through her. There, seated hunched over next to the remnants of a small window so she could have light, Rey worked diligently on the old lightsaber, able fingers painstakingly removing the parts to clean them and rebuild the connections as best she could. 

Sometimes, she just curled up on the floor and slept, far from the reaches of Kylo Ren. He was always there in the back of her mind, waiting and prowling, but something about this place kept his darkness at bay. The peace she felt in the solitude of this hut was tangible. Like gentle waves, it lapped over the disturbance she felt growing inside herself. Best of all, there were no dreams here, only blessed darkness. With a heavy heart, Rey wondered if this was as close as she would ever come to the Jedi or Skywalker himself. 

Whenever Rey awoke, her living nightmare returned, along with the hunger. With each passing day, she knew she grew weaker, less tolerant to endure the moods of her companion or less able to manage the arduous force control he was trying to impart on her. 

She stretched her sore legs and crawled outside. There was a heavy mist, and she knew she should return to Kylo Ren, lest he hunt for her and find this secret place. But first, she needed to see the fruit of her weeks of dedicated labor. 

Sheltered by the heavy trees and vines, she ignited the ancient weapon. Restored to its prime, the lightsaber lit up her face in gorgeous jade, the sound vibrating beautifully as she cut through the thick air. She couldn’t help but do a few of the lightsaber flourishes she had seen Kylo Ren perform, albeit with less grace. Rey accidentally dragged the blade across a bundle of vines wound around a tree trunk, causing meters of vegetation to nearly spill on her head before she  scrambled away. 

With a laugh, Rey shut the weapon off. She reluctantly had to acknowledge the skill it took to make wielding it look easy, but she had no more time to practice today. Rey moved the lightsaber back into its hiding place inside the hut. 

The long walk back to the crash site allowed for plenty of time to refocus her thoughts. Kylo Ren was convinced she was a poor student with her force mind abilities, but all the while, she was absorbing his lessons. Even now, Rey centered her thoughts on a fictional account of her whereabouts. He would test it, as he always did, and convinced of her inability, concede that it must be the truth. His assumption of her inferiority would be his undoing. 

 

{}{}{}{}{}

 

Rey found him seated in some form of meditation. Much to her chagrin, his tunic was cast aside on a log, his scarred back facing her. Unconsciously, Rey noted how well the shrapnel wound was healing—a dark red mark on his shoulder was the only indication that there had ever been an injury. His formerly muscular physique was giving way to a much leaner one, born out of the slow starvation they both faced. 

It was just beginning to rain. Kylo rose slowly, stretching his long limbs until he stood to his impressive height. He didn’t spare her a glance before grabbing his discarded tunic and quickly throwing it on. 

“You’re late,” he admonished, securing the ties. 

Rey snorted. “For what? The only thing we have in abundance is time.” 

Kylo chose not to retort. He intended to continue her training on manipulating the elements. It was the stuff of beginners, but it brought the scavenger satisfaction. Fire and earth were easy elements to conquer—more difficult was water.

Both Rey and Kylo stood in the pouring rain. Her hair was knotted behind her head, and her thin garments were plastered against a gaunt frame. 

“Close your eyes,” he commanded. She did. 

“Feel the water around you.” 

She smirked. “How could I not?” Rey felt his frown and adopted a more serious expression. She extended her hand out, sensing the repetitive beat of the droplets as they pooled in her open palm. 

“That's it,” he coached. “Now, make the rain stop.” 

She held her breath, trying to still her racing heartbeat. She could feel him close to her, watching... _always watching.._

Rey opened her eyes, her hand falling to her side again. “I don't understand how to control it.” 

“You're not concentrating!” She could feel his simmering disgust as he moved right behind her, so close that if Rey shifted back on her heels, her back would brush against his chest. Kylo Ren took her hand in his and stretched it out. 

“Focus,” he said, his voice low and much too close to her ear. His hand was warm, sending a shock-wave of heat up her stiff limbs. His fingers were long and calloused and wrapped around hers with ease.  _It was too much._ She couldn’t center herself and _feel him_ at the same time.

Rey pulled her hand back against her chest, clutching it like it was burned. “No. Not with you right here.” But she did nothing to move away.

_**Focus.** _ His command was spoken in her mind now. Rey silently cursed herself. She had let her mental guard down, and Kylo had found a way through, except this time was different. He wasn't pushing or trying to draw something out of her that she wasn't willing to give. He was just waiting. 

She sighed and extended her hand out again. It was overwhelming, the water all around them, myriads of raindrops, abundant and beautiful. How could she even begin to control their path?

Suddenly, she understood why Kylo Ren was lingering quietly in her mind. One of the most powerful force users in the galaxy, and he was waiting on  _her_ . It was a heady notion. Instead of an invasion, she felt his presence with a new appreciation—he was there as a guide, as a pillar for her flimsy control.

Rey drew upon that untapped reserve, using his strength to amplify her own. She closed her eyes. Sight wasn’t important. She had other ways to see. Suddenly, what had been uncontrollable chaos all became clear—millions of raindrops, falling towards them, beading on the waving ferns, pattering circles onto the slime covered surface of the swamp. And for that glorious moment,  _she was one with it all._

_Stop_ , Rey commanded, and everything around her froze in time. She opened her eyes and laughed despite herself.

_It was as though the world around her had paused._ Rey touched the suspended raindrops, delighting in the wetness against her fingers. She had seen this trick before—the force ability to hold a person or object in suspended animation— _she had even been a victim of it_ —but this was something different altogether, and wonderful. 

Rey had nearly forgotten Kylo Ren, such was her amazement, until she glanced down and saw those elegant, scarred hands resting on her hips, supporting her. Like the rain, he was frozen in time too.

Horrified, she tried to shift away. Concentration shattered, the paused rain fell in a terrifying deluge upon them before resuming its steady rhythm, knocking them off their feet into the mud. 

Released gracelessly from the suspension, Kylo Ren was unsteady, and quickly turned away to wipe the droplets of blood away from his nose before the girl could notice. It had been ages since someone had locked him in a force-suspension, and it was as unpleasant as he remembered. Disgusted, he looked back at her, the girl still sitting breathless, soaking wet and at once both lost and amazed. She had every right to be impressed with herself—he had not expected her to succeed so quickly, much less enact a grip on himself as well. Of course, her victory was not only her own. Kylo had made himself vulnerable for her use, but he would not make that mistake again. His tolerance of her weakness and doubt would only kill her in the end.

_And it would kill him too, if he wasn't more careful._

Still, on the heels of her momentary display of force awareness, why did she look at him with such scorn? She would have never been able to attempt such a task without his help. It had taken Skywalker months of effort to attain results half as good with his pathetic group of recruits, Kylo recalled with a sneer. 

“I'm tired. I've had enough,” Rey announced, rising to her feet. She wiped her muddy hands on the front of her pants and began to walk away. Kylo's hand snapped around her wrist.

“ _You do not get to leave_ ,” he ordered through clenched teeth.

Rey jerked her arm back. Her eyes blazed. “You will not— _ever_ —control me.”

Whatever restraint he had been exercising vanished. A snarl erupted on his face. “I am the right hand of the Supreme Leader and the Master of the Knights of Ren.  _You are nothing!_ ” 

The air between them was charged. They were so close again she could feel his breath on her skin. Rain droplets clung to his hair, forming messy black waves on his forehead, running down his pale scarred cheek, over his parted lips...and despite everything, she couldn't help but stare. Kylo Ren, the feared Jedi Killer,  _was almost_ — 

Rey bit the inside of her cheek. Something was changing, something she didn't understand, but knew with every fiber of her being, it was dangerous. Kylo’s gaze dropped to her lips, and everything in her screamed in warning. 

“I prefer your mask,” she spat, turning her head away. It was a lie, of course, but she had needed something—anything, to get him away. There was a momentary flinch of his jaw, a hurt that flashed before being lost in a cloud of enmity.

“So be it!” Kylo hissed, and dropped her arm so sharply she nearly lost her balance. He moved to the edge of the swamp. He had been without the mask too long. He needed a reminder of who he really was, and moreover, _the scavenger needed a reminder of whom she was dealing with._

Kylo Ren extended his right arm and closed his eyes. He was outwardly quiet but raging beneath the surface. She could feel the raw strength flow around him as the force bent to his will. Bubbles formed on the top of the swamp, signaling movement beneath the black water. Rey stepped closer to watch, despite herself. Whatever wonderment she had felt over her success at controlling the rainfall was smothered now. 

Slowly, one dilapidated wing pierced the surface of the swamp, followed by the hull, then the other wing, attached only by a few cables. Mangled but recognizable, the airspeeder levitated in the air, rain beating down on it, before Kylo commanded the force to shift it onto the bank beside them. The ship landed on the ground with a loud groan, slimy vegetation hanging off it and swamp water pouring from its orifices.

Without hesitation, Kylo's hand became a claw, and the entire side panel of the cockpit and hull flew off, narrowly missing Rey when it landed some five meters beyond her. The whole spectacle shifted her attention for just a few seconds, but it was already too late. Kylo turned slowly to face her. His mask, showing only minor scratches from the crash and being underwater, was united with its owner, the angry chrome and black pattern reflecting the dim light. He approached her slowly, like a predator. Even more alarming, with a deadly hum, the retrieved blue lightsaber ignited in his hand. Skywalker’s lightsaber.

Whatever shaky ground they had made was lost in an instant. Once again, Kylo Ren melded into a terrifying servant of the First Order, ominous and seething with every stride. Rey could all but taste his hatred.

“Do you prefer me now?” he asked, his tone deadly calm, made even more inhuman by the voice alteration of his mask. Rey took a step back, and then another as he approached without pause. She could feel him summon the darkness, drawing it in and basking in it.  _Coming for her._

She reached out in the force and was slammed back by his emotions. Rage was only the outer surface, but she could just sense the undercurrent turmoil of pain that fed it…

_Rejection_ .

Her confusion was short-lived as she backed into a tree. Kylo didn't halt his pursuit, effectively trapping her. He gave the lightsaber an elegant twirl, getting re-accustomed to the feel of it as he neared. Rain sizzled off the blade. In his next step, he swung his lightsaber in an arc toward her. Eyes wide, Rey ducked and rolled on the ground, the blade missing her by a finger width, and without a glance back, she ran. 

 

{}{}{}{}{}

 

**Onboard the** _**Finalizer** _

 

General Hux walked into his quarters and shed the overcoat. It was late and he wanted nothing more than to rest after a long day of threatening incompetent, worthless commanders. No wonder the Resistance was growing bolder—leadership in the First Order was lacking as of late. Though Hux hated to admit it, while Kylo Ren was outside of the military command structure of the First Order, his natural authority and the effortless intimidation of the troops was something Hux had taken for granted. The mystical warrior’s absence was keenly felt, and Hux was paying the price for it. He would need to maintain a grip as ruthless as Ren once did, or be subject to report his failings to the Supreme Leader. Given Snoke’s fickle temperament, he was not eager to do so. 

He looked at his console and saw the flickering alert. Hux touched the screen and scanned the readout, his mouth quirking into a dark grin. 

“ _Traitor, I've found you_ ,” he whispered. Adrenaline surging through his veins, he threw back on his overcoat and straightened his collar. Exiting his quarters, he strode through the maze of hallways with a renewed sense of purpose, oblivious to the surprised glances and salutes of the  _Finalizer’s_ personnel as he passed until he reached the empty communication room. 

It was dimly lit, typical for the evening hour as part of routine fuel saving measures. But such was a the singular purpose of his thoughts that Hux did not even notice.  He went straight to the console along the wall, punched the controls and waited for the large hologram to appear. The seconds went by like years until the seated, grotesque form of the Supreme leader appeared before him, tapping a long finger on the edge of his throne. 

“ _What_ is it?”

Hux swallowed. To speak with the Supreme Leader was always intimidating, even for a man in his position, but today Snoke seemed more irritated than usual. He was not accustomed to being summoned with no prior warning.

“Supreme Leader, I have located a weak transponder signal in the outer rim—”

Snoke leaned back, his misshapen eyelids narrowing. “Spit it out, boy, or I will crush you where you stand.”

The First Order general had no doubt he could, and having been on the receiving end of some of Kylo Ren’s temper-fueled force dramatics, he wanted to take no chances.

“The signal belongs to Kylo Ren.”

The gnarled finger stopped its tapping rhythm entirely. “Interesting,” Snoke said. The rest of his expression was unreadable.

Hux took a step closer. “I would like permission to send a squadron to retrieve him.”

**“NO!”**

The ferocity of the command shook Hux to his core. “M...may I ask why, Leader?” he asked, his trembling voice pitched up.

Snoke offered the closest thing he could to a smile. It made the general’s insides turn. “You may monitor the signal and provide updates, _but you will leave Kylo Ren to me._ ”

Hux nodded and bowed, and Snoke severed the transmission.

His lip curled, the general turned on his heel and left the room. Once back in the privacy of his quarters again, he threw down his coat and released his collar. Running his hands through his auburn hair, he released an anguished cry. That was supposed to be  _his_ moment!  _He_ had located Snoke’s pathetic underling, not Snoke’s beloved Knights of Ren nor anyone else in the massive First Order.  _He_ had possessed the foresight to order the secret code to be designed and inserted into a transceiver chip within Ren’s mask because he knew— _he knew!_ —that these force sensitives could not be trusted. Tapping into something beyond their own understanding made them a volatile liability, not an asset. Of course, Hux never could have admitted that to Leader Snoke, who was a force user himself. But it was of no matter now. Instead of being able to relish his moment of victory, Snoke had crushed any hope of personal recognition, and ensured that Ren—dead or alive—was firmly out of Hux’s reach. 

He paused a moment. Kylo Ren was off limits to him— _but not the girl_ . If she was alive, she had to be with Ren—she never could have escaped on her own. 

Hux’s heartbeat quickened again with renewed anticipation. He imagined the Jakku scavenger again, pale, eyes closed, helpless under his touch, and then her sudden grip wrenching his arm. 

His head dipped back as his hand sank beneath his waistband. He could still feel the shock from her fierce grasp and the exquisite pain she had caused him. She had hurt him, attempted to humiliate him even, but he was a patient man. There were many battles in a war, and he was a master at strategy. For now, he focused on those dark eyes, piercing, angry and beautiful...

With a gasp, Hux trembled and leaned forward against the wall, his head resting in the crook of his arm. He would keep his word to Snoke—he would not pursue Kylo Ren. Whatever happened to that troublesome warrior was of no more relevance to him. But the scavenger…

He would find her. And she would be  _his_ . 


	13. Interrupted

Rey ran quickly, her lithe body a blur of gray through the maze of dark green trees and vines, ducking and jumping. Rain pelted against her like needles, but she didn’t notice. She had to get away from him, and yet she had no where to go. She was so alone here...

It was inevitable that Kylo Ren would try to kill her—she never expected anything less of the monster. His murderous intent didn’t intimidate her, nor did his provoked force retrieval of their ruined ship and his belongings. It was the haunting undercurrent that he was trying so hard to suppress, but it had been there all along. They both felt it, and Kylo was no more equipped to deal with the repercussions than herself. No wonder he wanted her dead. Such things were forbidden to slaves of the dark side and followers of the light. 

Her feet moved automatically, falling into a rhythm as she moved. Rey didn’t care where she went—just as long as Kylo wasn’t there. She reached out with the force, feeling his pursuit. She didn’t have long. He was too powerful—he would find her. He  _wanted_ to find her. 

When she skidded to a stop, Rey was breathing hard as she stood before the abandoned Jedi Master’s dwelling. Of course the force would lead her back here. If she was to die, this was as good a place as any. Rain poured around her, washing the hints of tears away from her face. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heartbeat. She didn’t have to wait long.

Kylo Ren didn’t need to see the mud hut ruin before instantly knowing the famed Jedi who had once occupied it. The energy that coursed through this place was intense, but it was unbalanced. It didn’t churn with the light side of the force, at least not as he knew it. This place was unearthly, and it set him even more on edge. 

Rey stood quietly before the dwelling, waiting, her back turned toward him. Her head was turned a degree, listening. 

“ _This_ where you have been going,” he said flatly, disgusted. Without a word, Rey turned slowly and faced him. She tilted her chin up and she glared at his metallic visage, fearless and obstinate to the last. 

Behind the mask, Kylo snorted. “Why? So you could commune with the dead? Feel some remnant of the ruined Jedi legacy?”

Energy crackled around him, though he didn’t seem to notice. Rey felt the hairs on her arm rise. 

Kylo took a step closer. “You really don’t understand, do you? You’re so desperate to believe the mythology of noble warriors who defended peace throughout the galaxy, when they were in fact guardians and often perpetrators of war and strife. Why learn their ways? What has Skywalker to offer you? He ran, abandoning the Resistance and his—”

Kylo cut himself off before he could speak the word, but even unspoken, it hung heavy in the air between them.

_Family._

Rey glared at him. His stance was rigid. Something malevolent shifted within the Knight of Ren, something that raised every alarm in her being. 

“Fool!” Kylo hissed, although Rey didn’t know whether he was referring to Skywalker or herself—perhaps both. Kylo raised his arm toward the mud dwelling. Awestruck, Rey watched as bolts of lightning sparked off his hand. 

“No! Don’t!” she cried, but it was too late. The lightning sprang from his fingertips to the abandoned Jedi Master’s abode, attacking it with a thousand menacing tendrils. Despite the moisture of Dagoba, the hut and the tree ignited with supernatural energy. The intense heat from the searing flames forced her back. 

Tears pricked anew as Rey looked at the scene of destruction. Kylo was engulfed in rage, the fearsome lightning still emanating from him, as though he couldn’t wreak enough havoc onto the structure. It was the proxy for an atonement that would never come. 

Rey would have rather died than watch this. Her closest link to the Jedi was burning, and the lightsaber she had worked so hard to rebuild, hidden within the hut, was consumed in flames as well. Where was her comfort now? Commanded by insecurities and blinded by his hatred, Kylo had taken away the  _one_ small thing that brought her solace. Rey felt her shock twist into fury, and like the fire, consume her thoughts. Her gaze narrowed on the  K night of Ren.  _She loathed him with every fiber of her being._

_**He will only bring you pain. Strike him down!** _

The voice was acherontic, breathier, and far deadlier than she recalled previously hearing, but it whispered affirmation of  _exactly_ what she wanted to hear. She should have  _never_ saved Kylo Ren.  _He deserved to die._ But she would never stand a chance against him unless…

_Unless…_

With a scream, Rey stretched out her hand. An instant later, she wrapped her fingers around the scorching hot shaft of the repaired lightsaber, summoned from within the burning dwelling. The pain barely registered as Rey ignited the green blade and charged at the Knight of Ren with a scream. 

 

{}{}{}{}{}

 

He barely had a chance to ignite his own lightsaber before she struck. Rey’s furious attack sent him immediately into a series of defensive poses. His arms shook from the vigor of her strikes. All the while, her face was a mask of pure contempt. 

Their blades locked for just a moment, spitting and hissing, and he looked into her eyes. _They_ _were completely black_. Kylo Ren was rarely shocked anymore, but this made his blood run cold. He was not fighting the scavenger any longer. She had tapped into something much darker and more powerful, something with ancient vitriol. _Did she know?_

Her elbow connected with the faux cheekbone of his helmet, snapping his neck to the side. Dazed, Kylo kicked and hit her square in the gut. Rey doubled over. It gave him a moment to back away, to breathe before she came at him again. The girl was a talented melee fighter on her own, and it showed in her steps. In another time and place, he would have enjoyed the challenge, but right now, he wasn’t sure who his opponent really was. He drew upon the force, attempting to center himself as he parried another barrage of well-placed hits. One came terrifyingly close to the edge of his mask, scorching the black and chrome pattern. Kylo dropped back a step and raised his hand to push her back with the force. Rey skidded backwards in response, but she didn’t fall. 

What seemed so long ago in the interrogation room of the  _Finalizer_ , Kylo had met an equal in the force. Raw, passionate, and driven—the scavenger had brought him rare exhilaration and terror. Untrained as she was, she had broken down his defenses. Perhaps he should have killed her then, or hidden her existence from Snoke completely, but he didn’t. He  _wanted_ her to exist, if anything, to stave off the crushing loneliness of his life. Even now, he felt her strong presence through  the  force, far more mature than he had given her credit. There was a look of murder  i n her gaze, he knew it was his fault. Rash emotions had disintegrated the strained peace they had enacted. He didn’t know whether Snoke would be furious or proud. 

The rain had slowed to a drizzle, but the mud was still up to their ankles, making footing treacherous. Lit only by the roaring flames, they circled each other. Both were half-starved, driven by anger, resentment and disappointment. The catharsis Kylo thought he would achieve by destroying Yoda’s hut was wholly absent. He had succeeded only in pushing the girl to her breaking point, and whatever dark passenger she carried now wanted vengeance.  _Let her have it,_ he thought. He’d rather enjoy a quick death by lightsaber than a slow one by starvation on this cursed planet. Kylo lowered his blade. 

Rey approached, one side of her bathed in the glow of the fire, the other lost in shadows. She was terrifying and stunning, and very, very angry. He had no doubt she would take his head clean off his shoulders. Her gaze darted to his lowered lightsaber, anticipating a trap. 

“Why?” she asked. Her voice was almost lost in the rain, but thanks to the auditory sensors in his helmet, he heard her easily. 

Her question could have a thousand meanings. He had no idea how to respond. With his free hand, the Knight of Ren pulled his mask off, throwing it to the side. He needed to look at her with his own eyes. And he wanted her to see his. 

“ _Rey_ ,” he said between grit teeth, “enough.”

She didn’t lower her lightsaber, but her eyes widened a fraction.  _Her name._ It was the first time he had ever spoken her name. Rey blinked once, twice, and then when she looked again at Kylo, her pupils were once again their normal warm amber shade, although the lightsaber was still po i sed to strike. 

“Enough?!” she asked. “Was it enough to murder Han Solo? Was it enough to participate in my torment under the First Order or to condemn me to this miserable planet? Or was it enough to destroy something that meant  _nothing_ to you, but  _everything_ to me?”

The muscles in Kylo’s jaw clenched, but Rey knew she wouldn’t get an apology. To feel regret, he would need to feel something other than the pain, hatred and discord his creed embraced. She made a motion with her fingers, and traitorously, his lightsaber flung from his hand into her waiting grasp. Trying to suppress his shock, Kylo stood his ground as she slowly approached the last few feet, wielding both ignited blades. 

With a scream, Rey spun and kicked hard into his chest, knocking him to the ground. Without missing a beat, she knelt over his chest, her knee pressing hard against his recovering shoulder wound. She could hear his hiss. 

Rey held both lightsaber blades in an X formation over his neck. One wrong move and his head would be severed. Droplets of rain fell from her hair onto his cheek. 

“You, Kylo Ren, should never forget that  _I am a scavenger_ . I have fought hard my whole life against people like you, people who hurt others, who only know how to  hate .” 

She pressed her weight down harder on him, his face bathed in the blue and green glow of the lightsabers.

“And do you know what?” she said, her voice lowering, “I will  _always_ beat you.” Rey flipped off his lightsaber and threw it in the mud beside him. She was inches from Kylo’s face, his dark eyes watching her so intently she felt a shiver run down her spine. 

Suddenly, the space around them lit up in bright white, making the rainfall look like a  million descending bolts. Rey’s mouth dropped open. Those were the plasma engines of a ship!

The trees quaked and bent from the turbulence the vessel’s descent. Steam poured from air intakes as the landing ramp lowered. Rey lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the light. The silhouette of a petite creature, barely up to Rey’s chest, came walking out, followed by a taller humanoid armed with a multi-barreled blaster. 

Once her eyes adjusted to the bright light, recognition hit Rey instantly—it was the bespectacled pirate she had met on Takodana—a friend of Han Solo. Relief flooded through her so strongly she almost grinned. 

Maz  Kanata  frowned as she glared at them, finding Rey still knelt upon Kylo’s chest. 

“I’ve interrupted something, I think.” 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the comments and kudos! xx


	14. The Escape

Rey scrambled off Kylo and stood up. He followed a moment later, both still breathing hard from their fight.

“Are you here to rescue us?” Rey asked, her voice breathless and hopeful.

Maz ignored Rey as she approached, looking hard at Kylo Ren, her small stature in sharp contrast to his tall one. She flipped down a different lens in her goggles, increasing the size of her wizened eyes.

“I was told about the girl. I was not told about _you_.”

Kylo Ren watched the orange skinned Kumumgah in silence, and Rey couldn’t tell if his cool regard of Maz masked surprise or annoyance.

“You destroyed my castle,” Maz said bluntly, pain evident behind the accusation in her voice. Clearly, the First Order stormtroopers and Ren himself were not considered separate entities.

Rey had no doubt now. She could feel it again—the buildup of dark energy around the Knight of Ren. Maz must have felt it too, because at the slightest movement of her hand, her bodyguard raised his blaster, finger on the trigger.

Kylo was silent, but Rey could see the telltale signs—the twitch of his lips, the flex of his jaw, the narrowing of his eyes. Rey was already privy to the consequences of his temper being allowed to flare to its inevitable conclusion and she could not allow that to happen now, not when she had a real chance to escape this place and return to the Resistance. Moreover, Maz was protected only by her bodyguard and his blaster—both no match for the highly-trained Knight of Ren.

Quietly, Rey drew upon the force. If Kylo noticed, he didn’t show it, as his glare was locked firmly on Maz and the ancient pirate’s threatening bodyguard. As one conditioned to anticipate conflict, he didn’t see salvation, but an oncoming battle.

“He comes with me,” Rey said as calmly as she could muster, “as a prisoner of the Resistance.”

Kylo shot her a poisonous look. The ruse worked—now she commanded his ire.

“You—”

But he was cut off as Rey threw her hand forward, using the force to lock him in place. His mouth was a frozen snarl at her. His body vibrated as he tried to fight it. Rey grimaced as she struggled to maintain her hold on him. It was far more difficult now than practicing with rain. Kylo had made force suspension seem easy then. In truth, it took a massive amount of energy and control. Sweat beaded on her forehead.

“Yketi, quickly,” Maz ordered, sensing Rey’s struggle, and nodded to the reptilian Kajain'sa'Nikto bodyguard behind her. He wasted no time moving behind the fuming Kylo Ren. He relieved the knight of his lightsaber with a ruthless swipe of his claws, then slapped a pair of ion cuffs around his wrists. They emitted a soft hum as they powered on. Gasping, Rey released her hold and Kylo fell onto his knees. He was hauled up without ceremony by Yketi and marched toward the ship.

Rey retrieved the knight’s discarded lightsaber from the mud. She glanced at his forlorn black and silver mask on the ground, the symbol of his commitment to the dark side, and paused a moment before moving past it. Maz watched silently, but made no motion to stop her. Rey squared her shoulders and looked straight ahead. The captured Knight of Ren was pushed roughly up the landing ramp and out of sight.

“It’s a risk to take that one,” Maz said somberly, nodding towards Kylo, but she made no further argument as she moved onto the ship. Mouth pressed in a hard line, Rey followed Maz.

“I know,” she said quietly, though she didn’t think the pirate queen heard her.

 

{}{}{}{}{}

 

A weariness settled over Rey so potent that she didn’t offer any rebuttal when Maz placed both lightsabers in a blast proof locker protected with a septacode combination. If it made her rescuers feel more secure, then she would willingly oblige. Kylo Ren was dangerous on his own, but with his preferred weapon at his side, he was deadly.

Yketi moved Kylo down a hall past her sight line. Rey didn’t care in the least where the Knight of Ren was at the moment—all she could think about was the agonizing pain in her hand. Terribly blistered from holding the blazing hot lightsaber hilt, the worst of the burns had caused the flesh to begin peeling from her fingers. Strange how she hadn’t felt the injury before...

She was led to a small room with bunks lining the walls. Contrary to the colorful splendor of the castle against the lush green beauty of Takodana, Maz’s furnishings on the ship were downright sparse. Rey hardly cared as Maz’s weathered orange hand guided her down on a bunk. In a daze, Rey watched the decades old medic droid make quick work of applying bacta cream and bandaging her hand. She winced when the droid pulled the bandage tight.

“Drink this,” Maz said, offering Rey a cup with a strange smelling blue drink in it. Rey drank it easily despite the bitter taste, and gave the empty cup back to Maz.

“I’m...really tired,” she said, her vision growing blurry.

“Sleep, child,” came the sage response. Rey nodded and closed her eyes, sinking into an easy oblivion.

 

{}{}{}{}{}

 

The Kajain'sa'Nikto bodyguard—the one Maz called _Yketi_ —led Kylo Ren down the narrow ship corridor until he stopped and kicked a hidden lever disguised in the metallic wall trim. A floor panel reluctantly eased open, the creaking mechanism in desperate need of lubrication. The hole in the floor revealed nothing but a murky darkness below. It was a cargo hold of some sort, and judging by the stale odor that wafted upwards, it had not been used in some time.

The bodyguard grunted something and nodded toward the opening. The scaly green skin and small horns around his eyes and chin made him appear even angrier. Kylo stood firm despite feeling the bodyguard's blaster pressed between his shoulder blades. Blood dripped steadily onto the deck from his forearm where the creature had haphazardly clawed the lightsaber away and caught his arm in the process. _How dare this pirate scum order him about. Was his earned reputation within the First Order and its subjugated planets so quickly forgotten?_ His hands clenched into a fist. His frustration needed an outlet, and this animal deserved a lesson. While Kylo’s arms had limited mobility with the ion cuffs, he spun and raised his hand toward Yketi. The force responded instantly, and the Kajain'sa'Nikto was thrown back hard into the wall. Thanks to the heavy scales and jutting horns, Yketi was uninjured, and instantly rose to his feet. He grinned—or the closest thing Kylo could surmise to a grin—and activated a remote on his belt. Kylo felt the tell-tale warning vibration of the ion handcuffs before being dropped to his knees in an intense series of electrical shocks, not unlike being struck with force lightning. A moment later, a swift kick to his middle pushed his limp body into the inky blackness of the hold. Kylo landed hard on his shoulder and arm, the breath knocked out of him. Yketi didn’t linger—with a groan, the floor panel moved back into place and locked. Kylo was imprisoned in the dark.

He pushed himself up, thankful that his hands, despite the ion cuffs, were locked in front of his body rather than behind. Even with the hard landing, he was no worse for wear. A quick examination of his surroundings by feel told him that the cargo hold was small—a cube smaller than he was tall. The oily, grimy feel of the floor and walls indicated that as filthy as he was, the last occupant in the hold had been far worse.

Ever present choler coursed through him. Events had turned decidedly against his advantage, but the scavenger overestimated her newfound abilities while underestimating his. Patience was never one of his defining virtues, but to wait, to plot, to contrive—this was how the tables would turn back in his favor. He closed his eyes and sensed the scavenger's presence in the force. Her guard was down, perhaps assuming that she was safe at last from his perusal, so he easily felt her emotions. Her enthusiasm and relief flooded back to him—a bitter contrast to his own feelings. How grateful she was to have her precious Resistance within reach again. He broke the connection, fuming. _If only you knew_ , he thought, leaning his head back against the wall. _You are nothing to them. A tool in their arsenal._

_**One in yours as well, you sentimental fool.** _

Kylo’s body tensed and arched back as he was overcome by the abrupt mental invasion. Every muscle in his forearms involuntarily went rigid, tugging against the ion cuffs, which cut into his skin. Even as he dimly registered the pain, it was nothing in comparison to the projected wrath of his master. Across the galaxy, omnipotent and ubiquitous, _Snoke had finally found him._ Removed from the natural protection of Dagobah, Kylo’s outburst with the guard had cost him his anonymity. The master and protégé bond was a strong one, unbreakable until death. Pressure mounted inside Kylo’s head as he fought to maintain some sense of lucidity.

 _**Kylo Ren, return to my side.** _ The command was uttered with complete authority. Somewhere beyond this darkness, his enraged master waited. Icy cold seeped through Kylo, reminiscent of the Supreme Leader himself, cracked and deformed. Kylo dare not outright refuse, but he wouldn't answer the summon yet. Using every bit of his strength, he closed his mind off and sank back against the wall.

Gone from the protection of the mysterious force nexus of Dagobah, Kylo knew their camouflage was gone. Time was short before they both would have to stand before the Supreme Leader for judgment.

 

{}{}{}{}{}

 

**Dagobah, 2 day cycles later**

 

The ship that landed was a modified First Order _Upsilon_ -class shuttle —larger than any in the fleet, but just as nimble and far more deadly. Not that its advanced weapons systems were put to all that much use—far more deadly were the passengers themselves. It’s massive black triangular wings folded upwards in the thick atmosphere as it landed. The ramp opened, steam and exhaust venting into the humid air as six black-clothed figures stepped out, carefully taking in their surroundings. They were all human, but all so concealed by various dark masks, heavy armor and robes that one would have never been aware of it. The weapons they carried were unique to the warrior—one had a vibro-voulge, another held an  electro-bisento  , and yet another carried a plasma battle ax. Only their absent master, the greatest of them, carried the red lightsaber that resembled a broadsword.

The sounds of the forest went silent at their footfalls, as if sensing the ominous presence of the dark warriors. The vanguard knight, called Naraka, ignited her vibro-voulge and sliced through the heavy fauna blocking her path. She turned her masked helmet a fraction and singled forward with her gloved hand. The others moved along side of her into a clearing that was only recently abandoned.

All sensing the importance of the place, they spread out, forming a perimeter. A battle had occurred alongside the burned husk of a dwelling. Black tendrils snaked up remnants of the tree and its roots for forty feet—the unnatural scars of force lightning. The rest of the tree was severely charred and at risk of collapsing. _It must have been a fire straight from the depths of Hades_ , the knight mused as she took in the scene. Long ago, she was told the stories of the Jedi master who had once lived here, and beneath her mask, she smiled at the destruction she witnessed now.

Naraka walked forward, analyzing the preserved footsteps in the mud. As if the duel had happened before her, she could read the remnants of it. _Here_ , the two opponents circled, _there_ , they swung and retreated. It was an intimate duel, done with lightsabers, as she saw no traces of blaster-fire or worse.

She moved around the area with the highest concentration of activity, her helmet cocked to the side. Something happened at this point—surely their master was not defeated? They would have sensed it. And yet here was the clear indication of a body lying on the ground.

Another knight signaled her attention and pointed. There, almost lost in the foliage, was the black and chrome patterned mask laying on its side. She picked it up reverentially, inspecting it. The mask was heavy, the black powder coating scratched, but not significantly damaged in any other way. _Strange_. She had rarely seen their master without it on, thus she could not imagine him abandoning it here.

All six of the knights felt the presence of the dark side whispering to them.

_**Fire.** _

_**Death.** _

_**Jedi.** _

_**Traitor.** _

The whispers continued, providing an ethereal glimpse into the events that had occurred here. But instead of being reunited with their leader, they were faced with something else altogether.

Naraka moved to the outskirts of the perimeter, and finally saw what she was looking for—another two sets of foreign footprints, one small, the other quite large, and then a muddle of activity.

“He was taken,” she announced, her voice altered to a lower pitch within her mask. No one argued. They had come to the same conclusion.

 _But how_ , Naraka wondered. _How could the Master of the Knights of Ren be captured alive?_ Kylo Ren was the most powerful force user she had ever seen, aside from Snoke.

She felt the glares of her comrades until one of them finally voiced, “What do you want us to do?”

“We leave.” She tossed the helmet to another one of the knights, who caught it easily. “Destroy it,” she ordered, without looking back.

There was only a moment’s hesitation before the knight drew his plasma axe and cleaved the mask in two, leaving the smoking, melted remnants in the mud where they had found it. As silently as they had landed, the six remaining Knights of Ren boarded their ship and departed the planet.

 

{}{}{}{}{}

 

**Onboard AAL-1971/9.1 Troop Transport**

 

“Sir, the signal went dead.”

Captain Phasma watched the miniature form of General Hux appear on the holoscreen of her troop shuttle. Even though just a flickering green image, she could sense his mounting frustration.

She had a small group of stormtroopers with her, all handpicked for their loyalty and aptitude to follow her on this mission. Despite the abnormally intimate group, they had no clear indication of what their target was. It was highly irregular, but then again, nothing about this mission fell within the realm of normal. Defying protocol, Hux had insisted that she leave no record in the official logs of their departure. He even gave Phasma his personal access codes to get them past security checks at the landing bay. Only then, once they had cleared the space around the _Finalizer_ , did Hux send her the mission objectives over an encrypted transmission.

 

< FOLLOW SIGNAL. RETRIEVE ALL PERSONS DEAD OR ALIVE >

 

Phasma had looked over the data included, perplexed by the First Order signal coding.

 

<ORIGIN: KYLO REN _>_

 

It couldn’t be. Stormtroopers were highly monitored—they had to be to maintain order and discipline. But Kylo Ren was outside of the First Order military structure, and far too arrogant to submit to routine trackers. No, this code was embedded without the knight’s knowledge, she concluded, and likely by Hux himself. It was vile and clever, like the man.

Phasma was well aware of the tension between Ren and Hux, and on more than one occasion had been secretly amused by it. But this smacked of hypocrisy—the general’s dismissive attitude towards expending First Order resources on Ren’s personal vendettas was well known. She frowned within her chrome mask. Surely Hux was aware how bad it could appear that he was now pursuing his. While his position afforded him great power, he was clearly operating outside the wishes of the Supreme Leader, or the need for concealment would not be so paramount. All this meant that if their mission were disclosed, she would be at risk as well. Perhaps that was part of Hux’s plan—to ensnare them by the neck in hopes of sparing his own.

The general cleared his throat, snapping her attention back to the hologram. “Repeat that again, Captain, there was interference.”

“The signal went dead. Sir.” There was a disquieting pause.

“That’s most unfortunate,” Hux noted, though his tone didn’t contain a hint of regret.

“What is your command, sir?”

“What was the last recorded location?”

“The Sluis sector of the Outer Rim Territories. An uninhabited planet called Dagobah. Old Empire records have only minimal information.”

“Proceed with the mission. Keep me informed through a rotating cipher transmission.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, and the image of the general evaporated.

Four day cycles later, Phasma stared once more at the hologram of the anxious general. She was weary and glad to be back on board the First Order transport. There was something unnerving about Dagobah that she and the rest of her loyal stormtroopers were glad to leave behind.

“What is your report, Captain?”

Phasma motioned to a stormtrooper, who moved forward into view holding the severed pieces of Kylo Ren’s abandoned helmet. “This is why the tracking stopped,” she said briskly, “someone wanted to make sure that the helmet—and signal—were destroyed.”

“Get. That. Thing. Out of my sight!” the general hissed, and Phasma motioned the stormtrooper away again.

Even though the image occasionally wavered with static, she could still make out enough detail to see the malevolent storm just held in check by Hux. His upper lip trembled, and he swiped at the lock of auburn hair falling over his sweaty brow.

“Do you have anything substantial to report?”

Phasma paused, sensing the oncoming tirade.

“Captain?!” Hux barked, shifting his stance impatiently.

“We found a heavily damaged Rebel B-Class airspeeder, and remnants of stormtrooper armor retrieved from a swamp—”

“ _Which_ stormtrooper?”

Phasma raised her chin before answering, “FN-1985, sir.”

“FN-1985….was there?”

Phasma continued, letting his question hang. “Around the crash site there were signs of brief habitation, and plasma burns in the foliage. While someone was here, there is no evidence of Kylo Ren or FN-1985 alive on the planet. Given the destruction of the helmet and the statistically low chance of survival—”

“Ren _is_ alive, Captain. He is a deserter and presumed traitor to the First Order, and must be treated accordingly.”

The captain knew as well as Hux that Ren was not under the same regulations as the rest of the militarized First Order, being the chosen heir of the Supreme Leader, but she was not going to challenge the general in front of her subordinates. She only nodded her acknowledgment of his accusations. “Your orders, sir?”

Hux’s voice was tight when he finally answered her. “Return to the _Finalizer_ with all speed.”

“Sir?”

“Yes?”

“Shall I inform our spy network to keep a lookout for Ren and FN-1985, presuming that they are— _somehow_ —alive?”

“Yes, that would be wise, Captain.” The transmission cut off abruptly.

 

{}{}{}{}{}

 **Onboard the** _**Kanata** _

 

Maz turned her head slightly as Yketi entered the cockpit. The bodyguard spoke something in his native language.

“She’s sleeping,” Maz answered. “And what of Solo’s son?” Her ship already felt weighted down by the presence of that follower of the Sith. It was a bad omen.

Yketi growled his response.

Maz resisted a smirk. “Well, I’m sure you won’t make the same mistake again.” The reptilian alien snorted at her and walked out again.

Her brief amusement vanished the second Yketi left. Maz was a pirate—she had transported dangerous and illegal cargo for centuries and not thought a thing of it. She had been in more firefights than an entire squadron of veteran stormtroopers. Making the journey all the way out to Dagobah was unusual for her presently, (after a millennia, she thought she deserved a semi-retirement), but Maz felt strangely beholden to the troubled human girl she had met on Takodana, the one that was so strong in the force but so unsure. The girl’s vulnerability was her loneliness—without support, without guidance, she could be so easily swayed. No wonder Leia wanted her returned, and how strange that she did not mention the presence of her wayward son. _Then again_ , Maz concluded, _Leia was raised to be a politician. Reveal little, achieve much._

Maz well remembered the devastation of Darth Vader, the Empire, and his Emperor. She was alive during the reign of Sith Lords before them. She could sense the same churning dark side of the force when she had met Kylo Ren. He wore his anger like a cloak. Maz did not yet know the extent of his influence on Rey, but there was more to this story then met the eye.

Wearily, she stood and ambled out of the cockpit. It was time to speak with Kylo Ren.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still here, and still typing away at this story. :) Any comments are welcome--I love having dialogue with readers! Thanks!


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